


Werewolves and Other Tales

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shield Mates, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Consensual Somnophilia, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Huddling For Warmth, Kid Fic, M/M, Massage, Master/Slave, Multi, Otters, Pole Dancing, Prompt Fill, Q plays the violin, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shirt Porn, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Underwear Kink, dubcon, kitten play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 52,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of 00Q/JAQ prompts.  New chapters: Q watches Teen Wolf, chibi!Q, and a sex pollen gangbang.  How's that for diversity?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Werewolf Bond

**Author's Note:**

> These are some of my fills for prompts I've been taking on tumblr. I'm on there as [badwolfbadwolff](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com). Feel free to say hi!
> 
> Not all warnings/tags apply to all chapters. (Threeway sexytimes is in chapter 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q’s a wildlife photographer who stumbles upon a lone wolf and while taking pictures sees the wolf transform into a man. Q freaks and runs and is pursued by the wolf and caught. Instead of killing him for seeing Bond decides to keep him instead.

Q adjusted the lens on his camera, visually scanning the meadow from within his blind. He had been in the bloody thing all morning, toes sufficiently frozen, tea long since gone from his travel mug. His trip to Alaska had been mostly business, somewhat pleasure, and he vaguely regretted one too many beers last night. Sitting in the pub he had heard a few locals spinning tales of folklore and something about a ‘Great White Wolf’ only seen around the full moon that he wrote off as rubbish. He had gone to bed pleasantly hammered, his alarm buzzing all too early. He rubbed his eyes, trying to refocus and get his head in the game.

A snapping of twigs drew his attention to the left and he watched as a beautiful young doe traipsed forward slowly. He paused to frame his shot, depressing his shutter halfway to focus before the deer suddenly caught wind of something unseen. She looked up, eyes wide and body frozen. Q snapped off a few shots before moving his camera to the right, hoping to catch whatever large predator might be visible. He caught his breath as he saw a magnificent silver wolf, stunningly large, body crouched low and ready to pounce. The clicking of Q’s shutter suddenly was incredibly loud and the doe turned her head to glance at him before bolting away.

The sound of snarling drew Q’s vision back to the wolf, and Q was shocked to see a large man standing in the shadows instead. Q dropped his camera in surprise, knocking over a tripod and his metal travel mug, the noises clanging out loudly in the stillness. Two birds took off from a nearby bush and Q froze, deathly afraid as the man’s searing blue gaze looked through him. Q held his breath, too terrified to run, feeling as ridiculous and terrified as the wide-eyed doe who had scampered away moments ago.

When the man stepped forward, some kind of latent survival instinct snapped into action and Q began to back away, abandoning his equipment without a thought. He spun on his heel, breaking into a mad dash, feeling the camera bump against his chest and the hood of his parka flopping loudly as he scrambled over rocky terrain and around tree branches. He made it about a minute, his lungs just beginning to burn, before he felt large hands grabbing him from behind and he was tumbling to the ground with a yelp. His head collided with something sharp and he felt his vision begin to blur and slide away into a wash of darkness. The last thing he remembered was a huge palm coming to wrap around his mouth and the feeling of lightness as he was lifted off the ground.

Light gradually appeared behind Q’s eyelids and he fluttered them open, head feeling like it had been bashed in with a hammer. He blinked, cataloging any bodily injuries, flexing his joints and muscles before deciding he was intact and mostly unharmed. Mentally though, he was not so sure. He looked over, startled to see the large wolf from the shadows again, beautiful muzzle turned a dark blood-red as he gnawed at something caught between the large paws. Q jerked himself upward, a feeling of nausea running through his body at the sudden movement.

The wolf looked up, blue eyes bright in the dim light. Q watched with horrified awe as his fur slowly began to ripple and transform, paws stretching out to become fingers and sharp teeth turning into a predatory smile of a dangerous looking man. Q shuffled backwards on the dirt floor until his body was pressed against a wall, hands feeling around for a rock or anything that might protect him.

The man smiled at him, teeth glinting white. He drew himself up with a sinuous grace, stark naked in front of Q. As he walked his muscles rolled beneath the white skin, a luminous and ethereal quality that was both startling and beautiful at the same time.

“What… what are you?” Q asked, fear gripping him completely.

The man settled down on his knees in front of Q, looking at him with interest and something Q thought might be possessiveness. He brought a thick finger forward, stroking down Q’s nose and over his lips while Q trembled in absolute fear. The man smiled at Q’s reaction, drawing his hand downward to wrap around the slender neck.

“You’re mine now,” he said, ignoring the question.

Q blinked, the only thing he was capable of at the moment, watching the man sit back on his haunches and lick his incisors in a sort of beautiful way. Well, fuck.

xxxxxxxxxxx

It was day two of being the werewolf’s prisoner. Q kicked at the gravel, looking around the dank cave he was stuck in. The man had left early in the morning without a single word, pushing over a rusty iron gate that caged Q in before transforming into a wolf quickly and scampering off. After the shaking and fear had worn off Q had explored every nook and cranny, looking for an unseen exit or something that could help him escape but he came up dry. The gate itself seemed lightweight but must have had some type of enchantment on it because Q could not even get it to budge and the locking mechanism was strange and other-worldly.

With nothing to do and nowhere to go, Q huffed and sat down on a dry log, contemplating his situation. The only things he had on him were his clothes and his wallet and he didn’t have high hopes the werewolf would accept a credit card in exchange for freedom. His camera had been lost in the scuffle, along with all of his very expensive equipment. And unfortunately, no one would even know he was missing for at least a week or two. With no family to miss him and his job expecting him to be on the photography expedition for some time, he was in a rather poor position. He would just have to try for an escape because a rescue seemed an unlikely prospect. The hours passed and Q had nothing to do but fall asleep.

When he woke, the first thing he became aware of was the alluring smell of cooking meat. He cracked his eyes to see the man tending to a fire with a small animal tied to a spit above it. It was very dark out and Q sat up slowly, head not completely healed from its bump with the ground the previous day. He said nothing, observing the man, a little less afraid now that it seemed he wasn’t going to hurt him. At least he hoped so.

The man was wearing trousers that looked like they were made out of some type of leather, and nothing else. The light of the fire bounced off his luminous skin, highlighting the tone of muscle and the patchwork of scars that adorned his chest and abdomen. A fresh looking gash cut across his bicep, blood trickling out slowly.

“Are you hungry?” the man asked, sitting back on his haunches. He put a hand to his lips, licking juices off his finger tip and then running his tongue over his teeth.

Q gulped at the reminder of those sharp points, trying to be relieved that he was being offered dinner instead of becoming it himself. He knew nothing about werewolf lore; he only knew about the carnivorous diet of wolves and he sincerely hoped this man stuck only to rabbits.

“Yes,” Q said finally, his stomach making up his mind for him.

The man smiled a smile that was much kinder than before. He began to take meat off of the spit, pulling off a leg and beckoning Q closer.

Q reluctantly got up and sat himself down on the log on the opposite side of the fire, wondering how he was suddenly dining with a wolf man who had made him his prisoner. The man held out the meat and Q took it gingerly, trying to avoid touching his skin. Their eyes met and Q was taken by their beauty for a moment, despite everything. They were a crystal clear blue, flashing warmly now, the edges crinkled up in a friendly smile. Q bit his lip and drew his hand backward, sniffing at the meat. He cautiously took a bite, letting the juicy taste slide over his tongue before ripping into it with vigor. He hadn’t eaten in a day and a half and his stomach suddenly roared back to life.

The man watched him as he ate, taking small bites of his own and chewing contemplatively. He took the finished bone from Q, wordlessly handing him another. Q devoured it quickly, feeling the blue eyes watching him with curiosity. The large hand came out again for the bone and Q deposited it in his palm, remembering both the large paws of the wolf and the hand clamped over his mouth when he’d been kidnapped.

They sat in silence for a moment before the man shifted. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said tentatively. “I get a little… irritable when I haven’t eaten.”

Q grumbled, thinking how that was definitely an understatement. His mind reminded him that he was now conversing with and empathizing with a werewolf, but being in this cave and witnessing some pretty strange things was causing a temporary suspension of his beliefs about normality.

“Yes, indeed,” Q said, falling back on propriety.

“My name is James,” the man said, wiping his hands on his trousers and looking at Q intently. When he didn’t respond in kind he prompted, “And you are?”

Q figured there was no harm in telling him. “Q.”

“Ah, fantastic. Q. Lovely name.”

Q rolled his eyes, beginning to arrange his limbs so he could stand up and walk away from this ridiculous conversation with his captor.

“You’re my mate now,” James said simply.

Q froze, hands on knees. “I’m sorry?”

James just looked at him with a smug smile tugging up the corner of his lips.

“Oh, God,” Q said, standing up quickly and running over to the gate to tug on it fruitlessly. He rested his forehead on the bar after several long minutes of pushing and pulling, hearing James’ soft chuckling from behind him.

“Oh, relax,” the werewolf said, voice jovial. Q found nothing funny about it. “You could’ve been stuck with Alec. He’s mangy and a terrible cook.”

Q sagged against the bars. Great, there was another one, too. He sulked while James put away his cooking implements and made some other noises of cleaning up. Bloody buggering fuck, Q thought to himself. He was stuck here for the foreseeable future with a cooking, cleaning werewolf who wanted to be his mate.

Q flopped down on the burlap sack that James had provided him as a makeshift mattress. He crossed his arms, facing away from the man and the fire while hearing James’ laughter. He lay there, both annoyed and confused, until sleep finally came.

When Q awoke he felt a warm weight next to him and something scratchy against his mouth. Fur. He instantly scrambled to get up but something heavy was restricting his movement. He looked down to see James in wolf form, large paw stretched over his chest. The sharp looking nails flexed as Q watched in both fear and fascination. The wolf still looked deeply asleep and Q slowly tried to slowly pry himself out from between the long, thick legs. He had almost made it when he felt a huffing snort from James and the blue eyes fly open. They looked at him with tired amusement and a long tongue came forward to drag roughly across his jaw.

“That’s disgusting!” Q yelped out, finally breaking free and falling into a sprawl on the dirt floor.

The wolf grinned at him, tongue lolling outward in what could only be a silent laugh.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The worst thing by far was the fur. Or maybe it was the snoring. Possibly the way James’ wet nose always found his face in the morning. The lack of extra pants and a toothbrush also was unpleasant. Ok, there were a lot of things that were bad about the situation.

Q grumbled to himself as he rolled out of bed, a feeling that was gradually becoming the norm. He turned to regard James’ slumbering outline, the man sleeping peacefully in his giant wolf form. The white fur was ruffled from where he had been pressed against Q’s body, and his deep breaths caused the large barrel-like chest to rise and fall rhythmically. He was kind of beautiful in an ancient, majestic sort of way, Q supposed. He didn’t like to stare at James when he was awake; he still felt too awkward. And he was still technically a prisoner here, although James regarded him with absolute adoration. Perhaps that was the most annoying part.

Q fiddled around in the cupboards, looking for some breakfast. He heard James stirring behind him with a high-pitched yawn and then some soft noises that Q was now recognizing as those accompanying a shape shift. When he looked back he saw James lying on his back on the burlap mattress, completely naked as he always was after changing and stretching his tired muscles. He looked at Q with a sleepy smile and Q averted his eyes at his nakedness. He was beginning to know this man’s body more than was normal after a one week period with someone who was holding you captive. Albeit in the nicest way possible.

“Morning, Q,” James said, rolling over onto his stomach. His body moved with a sinuous liquid grace and Q turned back to the cupboard to keep from staring.

“Morning,” he replied woodenly, picking up an apple and sitting down on the wooden log. The furniture was quite sparse and Q found himself missing his old desk chair. He rubbed his hands over his face, chasing the sleep away and feeling completely dirty as he hadn’t showered in days. The scruff under his fingers was beginning to grow longer, and he knew he must have looked like a right mess.

“Everything alright?” James sat upright and reached over to pull on pants to Q’s relief. He let his eyes flick back over to James again, looking at his sleep-flattened hair and warm expression. He felt something inside of him melt a little at the genuine concern there.

“I know your favourite form of bathing involves your tongue, but that’s definitely not going to work for me. Is there a lake or something nearby?” He didn’t have high hopes, but James had been nothing but accommodating so far.

“Yes, there’s one just a little walk from here. We can go this afternoon.”

“Alright,” Q said, chewing thoughtfully. And then he added softly, “Thanks.”

The genuine smile on James’ face was so brilliant that Q had to turn away, face growing slightly flushed.

The walk to the lake was indeed short and Q trailed behind James’ large wolf form, the crunch of leaves loud beneath their feet. The water was crystal clear and frigid as Q dipped in a toe. Mid-September in Alaska was quite cold, and he suddenly realized what a stupid idea this had been. Maybe he could get James to rig up some kind of bath tub in the cave. As he shucked off his shirt and trousers, making sure James was facing the other way and not peeking, he realized what a completely ridiculous thought that was. Two weeks ago he was living in a hotel, eating chocolate bars while editing photos on his laptop. And now he was making sure a werewolf wasn’t peeking at his bits as he went skinny dipping in place of a shower. Bugger.

He began to sink into the water slowly, small movement drawing his attention. “Hey! I said no peeking!”

James huffed out and turned his head away, long tail swishing against the ground. Q narrowed his eyes and splashed in, sucking in a breath as the cold water surrounded him. He turned and looked at James who was still obediently facing the other direction. A sudden grin swept across Q’s face and he took a hand in a sweeping arc across the water and splashed upward onto the great wolf. James spluttered and leapt up, eyes wide and fur bristling as he shook himself off vigorously with a furious yelp. Q giggled at his displeasure but then stopped abruptly when James turned to fix him with a stare. He advanced quickly, shifting into human form right as he reached the water and barreling into Q, grabbing at his naked body while the man shrieked with laughter. They struggled and fell beneath the water, kicking upward and breaking through the surface as they both fought to inhale and laugh in the same breath.

“Wanker,” Q said, belatedly realizing the affection in his tone and pushing his dripping hair back away from his eyes. He glided away from James, sliding smoothly through the water.

James smiled at him, dipping below the surface to scrub at his hair. They swam until their toes grew numb, Q slipping out of James’ fingers each time with feigned annoyance.

When evening drew onward they walked back through the woods as the sun set, light streaming in glowing strands between the tree branches and illuminating the muted browns and golds of fallen leaves. Q breathed in the clear air, watching the wolf in front of him and wondering when he had decided escape was no longer in the forefront of his mind. The silence was companionable, and when James returned with dinner that evening, Q had already started the fire and was waiting.

“You’re bonded to me,” James whispered that night into Q’s hair. Q had no idea if the man thought he was asleep or not, but the words rang true. The night was cold and they burrowed together for warmth.

xxxxxxxxx

It was that stage of fall where the mornings were beginning to grow frigid, and venturing out from under the blankets seemed foolish and unnecessary. Q felt chillier than normal and turned on his side, arm automatically reaching out and stopping as he felt along the burlap mattress and found only a cold, wolf-shaped indentation. James. Where had he gone? Q pulled himself up and reluctantly threw off the covers, feeling around for his glasses.

The cave was abandoned, the morning light just starting to fall through the entrance. And the gate was ajar. That was definitely unusual. Q pulled on his sole pair of trousers and boots, wandering over to the wrought-iron to feel along its bars. He’d been James’ “prisoner” for two weeks and had only ever ventured out into the woods with the sometimes wolf as his protector. Thoughts of retracing his steps to his photography blind and some of his belongings began to tempt him. James would be mad… probably furious. But this might be Q’s only chance. He threw on his shirt hastily, making a quick decision before he lost his nerve.

Light shined through thick branches, the multitudes of ancient evergreens standing proud and full as the deciduous trees slowly lost their foliage. Each fresh crunch under his boots seemed loud in the solitude, and a frightened bird taking flight to his left startled Q. He pulled his parka tightly around his body, trying to identify any familiar landmarks that would guide him to his original lookout spot.

Soon the sun was high above him in the sky and beating down warmly. By absolute sheer luck Q stumbled through a clearing to find the site of his abduction and the abandoned blind. He trotted over to the ripped fabric, pulling it to the side and crowing happily as he uncovered his backpack and camera bag. The empty mug of tea that he had so hastily discarded was still there on the ground, cold and rusting. He picked it up gingerly and began to rummage through the bag, delighted to find a warm jumper and his mobile, although it was unfortunately out of batteries. But it was certainly better than nothing.

Smiling to himself he re-packed the bag and slung it over his shoulder, taking one step forward and wondering where he should go. On one hand he was by himself, finally free and able to make a break for it. He could seek out the hotel room where his luggage was abandoned, phone his job, return to the real world.

And on the other hand there was James. The sometimes man, sometimes wolf who had kidnapped him, called him his mate, and locked him in a cave. But he’d also cooked him breakfast every morning, curled around him every night, and licked his cheek when Q wasn’t looking. Q felt a pulling in his chest, a warmness that spread through his bones as he thought of the man. James had called it a bond, saying they were connected. Q had thought it was a lot of hooey. He didn’t believe in mates or even soulmates, and certainly not bonding with mythical creatures. But he couldn’t deny there was something there.

His steps faltered as indecision waffled through his thoughts. Looking up, he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was. The clearing was gone, there were no recognizable landmarks, and the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. Q felt the beginnings of fear start to seep upward. It was going to be cold and he was very alone. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, trudging onward until the sun had finally sunk and only the glow of rays lit his way.

A sharp crack of twigs caused Q to freeze in his tracks. He clutched his bag tightly, drawing it into his hands to use as a weapon or shield, peering into the twilight around him. Two glittering eyes were suddenly staring at him, their colour an eerie bright yellow. They advanced slowly, a gigantic midnight black wolf gradually materializing in the dim light. His lips were drawn back into a snarl, large white teeth bared and wicked claws clicking against the leaves with each heavy step. Q inched backward until he felt himself bump into a tree trunk, the wolf stalking forward with a menacing growl and only stopping when he was a hairs-breadth away from Q’s face. The long snout snuffed along Q’s neck and shoulder, and he suddenly remembered James’ tendency to lick along that skin and place his teeth there. Q belatedly realized that he had been marking him.

As the black wolf’s teeth began to slide along his neck, Q stiffened in fear and a surprising tendril of guilt ran through him at the intimacy of the gesture. The large jaws were hinging open, beginning to wrap around his shoulder and sink down sharply and Q closed his eyes, pain digging inward and then shooting through his skin as the teeth were suddenly yanked backward, dragging away some of his flesh and parka in the process. His eyes flew open and there was James, furious and powerful, teeth ripping into the midnight black wolf’s neck and muzzle. The two grappled on the ground as Q grasped at his bleeding shoulder, backing away to stay out of their flailing limbs.

It was over quickly with a slash to the face and a bleeding snout, and the rival lay whimpering on the ground with laboured breathing. James moved his body protectively in front of Q’s shocked form, baring his teeth until the dark wolf struggled upward and limped away with a hiss and snap of his jaw. James’ answering growl was possessive and feral, and Q felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. When the coast was clear James rounded on him, and Q could see how absolutely furious he was through the angry thrash of his tail and narrowed eyes. The wolf snuffled along Q’s neck, wheezing wet breath as he caught the scent of another and turned away. He stalked off, checking to be sure that Q followed him. He did.

When they were safely back in the cave, James shifted back to human form, silent and seething as he examined his wounds. Q sat on the bed, feeling foolish and terrified.

“I’m sorry,” Q said softly, unable to meet James’ hurt eyes.

The mattress shifted as James sat down, resting his head on Q’s bowed back. “You could’ve been hurt.” His voice sounded small and more frightened than Q had ever heard it. He felt the tugging in his chest again, the bond between them throbbing and tightening and then Q turned and wrapped his arms around James’ chest.

“Forgive me,” Q whispered into the hard muscle and scars. James buried his head into the crook of Q’s neck, kissing and nipping and teeth sinking into a bite that would leave a thick purple mark.

The kiss they shared, their first kiss, was frantic and needy, and Q let James pull him onto his lap and run his hands everywhere.


	2. Shield Mates JAQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and James are shield mates, a special designation for military personnel who are married. In this world they are encouraged to have a spouse that watches their back in the field and one who takes care of them at home. They’ve finally found their home spouse in no-nonsense Q but it’s going to take some serious wooing to get him to agree.

James slumped down in his chair, utterly exhausted, eyes closing for a brief moment. He breathed in deeply before he heard Alec walk up behind him, running a dirty hand along the broad shoulders and lingering on his collarbone before dropping down into the chair next to him. Alec looked around their dingy military-issued flat, grimacing at the stacks of undone dishes, the piles of paper on the counter, and a mound of James’ dirty clothes kicked against the wall. 

“Well that was a fucking mess,” Alec said with a bit of dry humour in his voice. “Could this campaign go any worse?”

James shrugged, drawing a hand over his scruffy face, grimacing as he felt himself grinding in more dirt. “This place looks like a shit shack, my back hurts, and mucking around all day in the trenches with you is not my idea of a good time. I think I need a shower, love.” 

Alec perked up a little, a sly grin sliding across his face. “Would you like some company?”

James stood and tugged the other man upward, brushing across his lips for a quick and dirty kiss before shucking off his own tank and military-green trousers. He turned and walked stark naked into the bedroom, knowing that Alec would be right on his heels.

The shower spray felt heavenly, and Alec’s hands sliding against his ribs and down to rest on his hips was perfect. They watched the dirt wash away from their bodies, sliding down around their feet and disappearing into the drain. Alec pressed a small kiss to the scar on James’ left shoulder before reaching to grab the soap.

Lathering it between his hands, he said, “I met someone today.”

James raised an eyebrow that Alec couldn’t see as he began scrubbing his hair. “Oh?”

“Works in the tech department. Name is Q.”

“That’s sort of a ridiculous name.”

Alec shrugged. “Well, he’s adorable and read me the riot act when I botched up my security protocol report. It was kind of hot.”

The two switched spots, the spray bouncing off of Alec’s muscled body and sliding down in rivulets as James watched with interest.

“What does he look like?”

“Wiry little bugger, bookish glasses, the type of dark wavy hair you want to bury your hands in and hold down against the mattress.”

“Ah, so you’ve thought about it, then?” James moved forward, pushing his half hard cock against Alec’s leg.

“I don’t think he’ll have anything to do with me after today. Perhaps you should talk to him. Be the good cop. Convince him we’re nice.”

“We aren’t nice, Alec.” James punctuated this with a little grind of his hips.

Alec grinned. “Well. That’s true.”

They kissed briefly before rinsing off and shutting down the water. James stepped out first, toweling off and handing the other one to Alec. He watched him run it through his long dirty-blonde hair, drying the ends.

“I think he’d be good for us. We need another shield mate, you know. One who’d stay home while we’re away.” Alec’s expression looked thoughtful.

“Yes, I am aware of that, dear,” James said, turning to walk out of the bathroom.

“Don’t call me, dear.” Alec’s green eyes were turning stormy as he followed him out.

“Or you’ll do what?” 

Alec darted forward to grab the towel away from James, grabbing for his arse while James smirked and twisted out of his grip. Alec stalked forward in pursuit and succeeded in grabbing him by the wrist, running a thumb along the wet skin there and meeting James’ blue eyes.

“I’ll introduce you tomorrow,” Alec said, face softening as he brought a hand up to James’ face.

James smiled and nipped at the fingers. “Alright.” 

They threw off the dirty clothes that were piled on top of the bed and crawled under the sheets, naked and warm.

xxxxxxxx

Technical Services was located in a squat building on the far side of the military compound. James headed up the sagging wooded steps, hearing them groan heavily beneath his feet. The door stuck and he had to yank it open, nearly hitting himself in the face as it jerked free. He cursed under his breath about the bloody military, budget cuts and endless campaigns. He had been career military for all of his adult life, and more and more frequently he wondered if he was getting too old.

Those thoughts were compounded as he surveyed the inside of the building, scanning over the few workers scattered about before spotting a much younger looking man hunched over a table who fit the exact description that Alec had given him. His military fatigues hung off his slim frame, sharp elbows leaning forward on a table, and long fingers fiddling with wires hanging off of something large and electronic looking that James couldn’t identify. He walked closer, watching the youthful face begin to wrinkle across the forehead as he puzzled out the device in front of him. The tip of a tongue came out to rest against the side of his lip and long eyelashes blinked quickly, partially obscured by the thick-rimmed frame of glasses.

Very cute, indeed. Good job, Alec.

James stood next to the table for a moment, waiting for Q to acknowledge his presence. When he didn’t he cleared his throat politely. Q didn’t even look up.

“Yes?” he said in a posh, bored tone, tongue poking out again as he moved with deft precision to connect the two wires. A green light lit up and a little grin played upon his lips attractively.

“Commander Bond. I’m to report to you for a specialized weapons upgrade.”

Q finally set down the tech he was holding and turned to looked at James with his measured gaze. The hazel eyes traveled over his face, down over his military-issued tank that revealed his broad shoulders and stopped to rest at his hands that were slightly curled and resting against his thighs. James stood completely still under the scrutiny. “You’re married to that fuckwit Trevelyan, right?”

James broke into a grin, not sure if he should be offended or amused. “That’s not what I refer to him as.”

Q’s eyes flicked upward to meet his again, narrowing slightly. “He’s the worst of anyone at returning equipment intact. Yesterday he gave me a piece of string and a computer chip. All that was left of thousands of dollars and months of my time. A bloody piece of string!”

James laughed good-naturedly. “Alec has a one track mind when it comes to missions I’m afraid. And in some other aspects of life. I’m much more reliable than him.”

Q raised an eyebrow, brushing his hands on his trousers and turning to rummage through a supply cupboard resting against the wall. “Does he know you’re saying that?”

“Yes, of course,” James said, moving to stand next to Q and peering over his shoulder, suddenly close enough that he could feel the heat from the slighter man’s body. Q shot him an annoyed look and James backed away, giving him space. He pulled out a large black case and set it on the table, snapping open the clasps and drawing the top upward. Inside was a beautiful array of combat knives, their blades glittering in the institutional fluorescent lighting.

“Gorgeous,” James said, stroking along one blade sensuously before Q pulled the case out of his fingertips.

“Yes,” Q agreed idly before prying the smallest out of the foam cut-out and staring at it with something akin to love before handing it reluctantly to Bond. Their fingers brushed and James looked at where their skin joined for a moment and then up at Q. The younger man swallowed and then withdrew his hand quickly, returning to re-clasp the case and drum his fingers nervously along the top of it.

“Here’s the part where you tell me this is worth more than my life,” James said, turning the blade over in his hand and examining the handle. It felt heavier than a normal blade and he wondered what tech was hidden inside.

“The closest thing to an unbreakable blade as can exist in the world. There’s a mandatory training before you’re allowed in the field with these, Commander.”

“Ah. Led by you?”

“Unfortunately, yes. My combat training involves a specialization in knives and since I’ve pissed off someone high up above I’m forced to spend my young career not only designing these things but showing you lunkheads how to use them as well.”

“Alec won’t be happy you called him a lunkhead,” James said with a smile, just to see Q roll his eyes.

“Now please go away. I have work to do.” Q turned, picking up the case again and moving back toward the cupboard.

“Are you hungry? What are you doing for dinner?” James asked, leaning against the table in an attempt at being casual.

“Buggering fuck, you two are persistent.”

James tried to look offended. “Alec said-”

“No.”

“But tomorrow-“

“No.”

“So I’ll see you-“

“Goodbye Commander Bond.”

James closed his mouth, brows drawing together. This was not going well. He turned on his heel, pausing to sneak a look back at Q before he walked through the heavy door again. The man had returned to his wires, grasping a soldering iron intently. His dark hair was falling over his glasses, nose moving slightly as he pursed his lips in an adorable manner.

James cursed inwardly, knowing Alec would not be happy at his lack of success. At least they had the training session. He walked back to the flat, plotting out his strategy. Alec was good at tactics. They would put their heads together on this one.

xxxxxxxxxx

The training room was sparsely furnished and rundown, as all of the outpost’s facilities were. The money had run out long ago, and subsisting on gruel and grey mystery meat had become the depressing norm. Alec and James arrived early to the training session, eagerness at the forefront of their minds. Their round of sex the previous night had been quite vigorous, involving a creative story from Alec that was whispered hotly into James’ ear as they ground their sweaty bodies together. When Q entered the room, his lanky limbs covered by faded combat fatigues, James felt himself flush ever so slightly as Alec’s images rolled back through his mind like a movie. The pink lips and long curly hair, definitely in defiance of military regs, had featured heavily in Alec’s prose. It definitely gave him some interesting ideas.

Three other men and one woman milled around before drawing to their seats as Q moved to the threadbare podium at the front of the room.

“Now listen up, knuckle draggers,” Q said curtly, eyes sweeping across the room and fixing on Alec. The blonde grinned a little to himself, trying not to be obvious but rather enjoying Q’s ire. “I’m stuck in this godforsaken hellhole with you sorry excuse for soldiers. This training will last the bare minimum amount of time I’m required to give you and then I never want to hear anything else from you again. You will respect my equipment. You will respect my instructions implicitly. And you will return everything in pristine condition or so help you God.”

Alec swallowed, wondering what Q would do to him and if it would be worth it. Risking demotion due to the wrath of a superior officer was not something he took lightly. But. Still, he wondered.

“Alright, now pair off.” James and Alec stood, naturally standing together while the other’s partnered off. Q came around to each pair, distributing sheathed combat blades with obvious reluctance. James accepted his wordlessly, attaching it to his belt and practicing drawing it with quick precision. Q watched him evenly, saying nothing, and James felt himself growing apprehensive under the appraising stare. Q handed James a roll of tape and he wrapped it carefully on the blade, a safety precaution used during training.

“Now, show me an attack.” James followed the orders, circling slightly to the right as Alec hunkered into a crouch. The two knew each other’s fighting styles intimately, and getting the drop on Alec would be difficult. James feinted to the left and swung around, grasping Alec at the juncture of the shoulder and neck and moving to bring the blade upward. Alec was caught off-guard but compensated quickly, using James’ momentum and a kicked foot outward to hook him behind the ankle and knock him to the ground. As they fell, they struggled with the blade between the two of them until Alec finally manhandled it to rest against James’ throat. James glared up at Alec, shoving him off of him. Their competition was mostly friendly, but neither liked to lose.

Alec offered James a hand and hauled him upward, handing him back the knife. Q looked at them and down at the clipboard, face unimpressed. “Alright. You’re qualified. But Trevelyan-” Here he turned to give him a sharp look, one long finger jabbing him in the middle of his chest. “I trust you as far as I can throw you with my equipment. Which isn’t far. So bring it back, or else.”

“Or else what?” Alec said boldly, stepping forward so Q’s finger was pressed against his sternum, rising with his heavy breaths, faces suddenly close. Q looked at him incredulously, withdrawing his hand and drawing up to an impressive height. “Sir,” Alec added, too late.

“Are you sassing a superior officer, soldier?” Q said, authority laced through his tight voice.

“No, sir,” Alec said, chest deflating and looking downward while James crossed his arms and let out a quiet laugh that he managed to cut off into a huff.

“You do what I say or I will ground your arse and send your pretty husband out with a gun that shoots a little flag that says ‘bang.’ Am I clear?”

James bit back a grin at Alec’s disappointed expression, not missing the adjective Q had thrown his way.

“Yes, sir,” Alec replied. Q pulled a sheet off his clipboard and handed it to Bond before turning imperiously, moving on to decimate the confidence of the pair grappling next to them. They gathered up their items and removed the safety tape, silent until they were down the rickety stairs and halfway across the yard, safely out of earshot.

“Shit, Alec. I told you I should’ve been the one to talk to him. He hates you.”

“He doesn’t hate me. I don’t think.”

They reached their building and paused outside the exterior door. “You better bring it all back. Unscathed,” James warned.

Alec weighed the knife in his hand, flipping it over deftly before sliding it into the sheath, considering his options. “Yeah. Should I?”

James grinned and cuffed him on the back of the neck. Alec caught the hand there, twisting around so James’ arm was wrapped around his neck, body trapped close. He caught the lips in a brief kiss and pulled backward, eyes bright with mischief.

“You’re going to get us in so much trouble, Alec.”

“When don’t I?” he grinned, yanking open their door and tugging James inside.

xxxxxxxxxx

A week later and James and Alec had both returned from their fieldwork, relatively unscathed and equipment surprisingly intact. They decided to send in James, agreeing that he was their best offense when it came to dealing with the prickly Quartermaster. James walked into Technical Services and straight over to Q’s desk in the corner, wordlessly setting down the two knives and his modified Walther on the desk right next to Q’s lunch. The younger man speared a potato soaked in lumpy gravy and grimaced as he chewed, swallowing slowly before speaking.

"Trevelyan too scared to show his face?" Q asked, licking the fork tines before tossing it down on the metal plate disdainfully.

"You’ll find everything’s in perfect order," James said, ignoring the question.

Q wiped his hands on his fatigues and grasped the knife, examining it carefully under his desk lamp before returning it to the sheath. “It’s a bloody miracle,” he murmured just loud enough so James could hear him.

"Yes, sir," James said, and when Q said nothing he forged on. "If we’ve proved ourselves to you sufficiently… Would you consider that dinner? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy something other than this slop?"

Q hesitated, brow creasing as he obviously was considering the offer. He turned to open his desk drawer and pull out the sleek black case, returning the blades to their foam cutouts and snapping it shut smartly.

"One drink. And if its terrible we’ll never say anything else to you other than yes, sir.”

Q put away the case, turning to look James in the eye. The quartermaster’s eyes were dark green with a hint curiosity sparking in the low light; James held his breath, feeling excitement at the possibility of something very good beginning to happen.

"Fine," Q said, the corner of his lip curling up into a slight smile. “But only because this is completely inedible shit.”

James couldn’t help the grin that appeared. “We’ll pick you up here. Nineteen hundred hours?”

Q nodded, biting his lip. “Alright.”

xxxxxxx

They decided that James should drive, being the slightly safer and less scary driver. As they pulled up outside the rundown building James almost drove right past, not recognizing Q in his civvies. He was wearing a grey tshirt, dark jeans, and his black combat boots; the lack of military regalia and any indication of seniority took about ten years off his appearance and James was struck by how much younger he was than both of them. Alec hopped into the back of the borrowed Jeep and let Q take the passenger’s seat, the dusty wind gritty in their hair and eyes as they bounced up the dirt road. Going off base was a rare luxury that required written permission, but they weren’t questioned when Q flashed his security clearance at the gate.

The local bar was noisy and they washed down greasy burgers with cheap beers, the taste wonderfully decadent to their starved palates. Alec and James could hold their liquor, but they happily learned that Q got slightly less prickly and slightly more pink in the cheeks with each drink.

“So what are you doing here, really?” Alec asked between bites of fries, pausing to lick the grease off his fingertips as the jukebox clicked over to a twangy country song.

Q frowned, setting down his burger and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “There was a major fuck-up at headquarters that I got blamed for. Explosions and the like. Should have had a promising career. Instead I’m squandered on low-end tech and training the fuckwits who got posted here as punishment.” He took another bite before shrugging apologetically. “No offense.”

Alec barked out a laugh. “I’ve heard worse, believe me. And we’ve made our fair share of mistakes, too.” He looked over at James briefly before glancing downward, suddenly serious. James watched the tiny bubbles filtered upward through the amber liquid of his beer, letting his knee brush against Alec’s.

“I thought I wanted to make a difference,” James said into the beer bottle, taking another swig. “Instead I just became a fucking murderer.”

Q shifted his gaze between the two of them, tracing over the faces lined with age and regret. “I think we need another fucking round, mates.”

They tipped back their bottles, drinking until they forgot and their skin grew hot. When they were truly pissed and laughing over some idiotic war story Alec was relating, James gained the courage to stretch his hand out along the table and run the pads of his fingers over Q’s knuckles. The skin was soft and delicate, so unlike Alec’s, and jumping with warmth and newness. Through the pleasant haze of alcohol he watched Q’s fingers twitch and one glide slowly upward to graze along the webbing between James’ thumb and index finger. Their eyes met and Q smiled shyly. James suddenly wondered who would kiss who first, and if Q liked to watch or if he was the jealous type. 

They stumbled back to the car in the quiet darkness, Q falling against James in the backseat as Alec, the soberest of the three, climbed into the driver’s side. 

“I think I may have been…” Q trailed off, pressing his face into the leather of the seat. “…slightly wrong.” His eyebrows drew into a cute little furrow. “You’re okay I guess.”

“Thanks for the praise, love,” Alec grinned, watching as Q’s limbs slowly trailed over the seat and his fingers hooked into James’ belt loops.

“And pretty. Both of you.” 

James licked his lips as Q boldly slid a finger up under his tshirt to trace against the curve of hard muscles. “May I kiss you, Q?”

“Yes, please,” Q breathed, inching so close that James could feel the warm breath ghosting over his lips in anticipation. James’ eyes slid shut and he closed the distance between them, the feeling of soft lips parting beneath his absolutely perfect. He moved his hands along Q’s wrists, sliding up to the wiry biceps and over the thin neck to hold him tightly as the night air slid around them hotly. They drew away, breathless and silent as the wind picked up and Alec shifted in the front seat. Q twisted in James’ arms, one hand tentatively reaching upward to cup Alec’s cheek and tug him forward. Alec leaned over the chair, the old leather creaking beneath him as his lips met Q’s, still warm from James’ kiss. His tongue slid inside Q’s mouth, stroking along gently before drawing backward to lick at the corners of his lips. 

James dragged his hands downward over Q’s sides to rest on the sharp hips, drawing him up and onto his lap. Q squirmed against him, sliding his hips backward while Alec leaned even further out of the chair, kissing Q firmly and pushing him back against James’ chest until he was trapped between their bodies. It was warm and exciting and also really hurting Alec’s neck so he pulled away and laughed softly.

“I haven’t snogged in the back of a car in ages,” Alec said, sitting his arse back down on the driver’s seat. Q’s face looked thoroughly reddened and he clutched at James’ hands that were snaking up his thighs.

“Did you have a better idea, soldier?” Q asked, some of the authority reignited in his soft voice.

Alec pulled on his seat belt and roared the engine to life. “Yes, sir. I do.”

The ride home was bumpy and warm. Alec mostly stayed on the road, and with each sharp turn Q would shift on James’ lap, their lips brushing occasionally. Hot hands searched under James’ light shirt, feeling the rise and fall of his ribs with his quickened breath. As they pulled up to the gate at the entrance of their base, Q slid over and fished around in his pockets for his badge. Alec smiled congenially at the guard who shined a flashlight in their faces, looking Q over perhaps more than strictly necessary due to his flushed cheeks, wet lips and mussed up hair.

“Is there a problem?” Q asked in his most imperious voice. Alec had to grin, loving how the razor sharp tone was turned on someone else for a change. And it was hot.

The guard looked at the credentials and then snapped to attention. “No, sir,” he said crisply.

“Good.” Q snatched his badge back from the man and abruptly sat back on the seat, one leg pushed solidly against James’ thick thigh, a smile threatening to ruin his indignant expression.

Alec sped forward, gravel kicking up as they accelerated. They pulled up to the empty garage, lit only by one solitary light bulb, completely empty at the late hour. Alec killed the engine and they sat for a moment, anticipation weighing heavily in the thick air. Q moved first, turning his body to slide one leg over James’ and hitch himself upward until he was straddling James’ lap. He looked down at the man, grinning.

“What?” James said, a little breathless. Q ground his hips downward and their bodies pressed together for the first time, both making tiny grunting noises at the contact.

“I’ve never…” Q waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture before James’ caught it and brought it to his lips. “With two people. At once.” James began to suck on the digits and Q closed his eyes with delight.

The car door opened and closed, and then Alec’s hands were on Q’s hips, pulling him off of James and setting him solidly on his feet. He pushed Q’s body gently up against the side of the car, one leg settling in between Q’s and hands moving possessively over the wiry arms. Alec slid his hands down the muscles, feeling the light sweat accumulating until he was grasping the thin wrists. He leaned forward, mouth incredibly close to Q’s, sharing the same breath.

“We haven’t either,” Alec said, face softening slightly before leaning in to close the distance and kiss Q lightly, lips just barely touching. James climbed out of the backseat, feet landing on the floor with a soft thud. He moved behind Alec, nosing against the back of his neck, hands resting on his strong hips. The dull buzzing noise from the light and their panting breaths were loud to their ears, and each slide of skin against moist skin was slick and thrilling.

James tugged back on Alec’s hips, effectively breaking the kiss between the two other men. “Come on, love. Unless we want to get written up for indecent exposure.”

“Always following the rules, James,” Alec murmured into Q’s lips while James snorted. The three broke apart, briefly glancing around and confirming that yes, no one was around.

“You should listen to your husband more often,” Q quipped, smoothing down his hair and tugging down his tshirt in an attempt to mask the bulge in his jeans. “Then you wouldn’t always be given the shit operations as punishment.”

“See? He thinks I’m the smart one,” James said with a cocked smirk. Alec shoved him lightly on the shoulder before grasping one hand in James’ tshirt and pulling him forward for a crushing kiss. Q watched the two men’s hands curl around each other, familiar and rough and completely arousing. He felt the alcohol buzzing warmly through him, silencing his inhibitions, giving him the courage to step forward.

The three tripped merrily up the steps, laughing at nothing and everything while James’ fumbled to open the door. On the third shove it finally caved in, and they fell into the small living area with a giggle. Alec kissed Q before he had a chance to properly survey their messy quarters and head for the hills. His hand grasped into Q’s hair and he groaned, enjoying the silky texture immensely.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Alec said into Q’s neck, hooking onto his tshirt and pulling it up over Q’s arms. Q had to hold onto his glasses, giggling madly as Alec tangled the fabric above him and yanked while James worked on his belt and flies. They backed him up, suddenly in a terrible hurry, James kneeling up on the bed and pulling Q backwards into him while Alec slid off his thin cotton pants. Q’s cock bobbed up, long and slender and achingly hard.

Alec sunk to his knees, pushing Q’s legs up onto the bed and drawing his knees apart while he felt James’ rustling his own clothing behind him. Q looked up shyly at Alec’s sharp features, all of his bravado gone as he was laid bare with Alec looking at him with such wondering adoration. He swallowed and then felt James press himself against him from behind, cock pushing against his arse impatiently.

“I’d like to fuck you now, Q. If that’s alright.” James’ whispers against his neck and ears caused Q to shiver and he nodded fervently.

“Yes. God yes.” He moved so his feet were under his body and he was resting back on his heels. And then Alec was licking along the underside of his cock, tonguing along the head and taking him in while James’ fingers searched underneath his body. James brushed against his bollocks and Q bucked upward into Alec’s waiting mouth. James slid along the soft skin, circling around the entrance before sliding the tip of one finger inside. Q felt his body tighten and he consciously sought to relax, allowing the finger to slip in further. A second joined, and then a third worked in gently, sliding outward slowly before the firm press back in and Q trembled and bucked involuntarily upward into Alec, causing him to moan around his cock.

James tugged back on Q’s hips, settling backwards against the headboard and quickly rolling down a condom before pulling Q on top of him. With the strength of his arms he held Q above him, cock brushing against his cheeks before dropping him down slowly.

“Easy, love,” Bond murmured with a strained voice. “Push down for me.” Q grasped backwards, trying to hold on to James’ arms, every single muscle in his legs trembling with exertion. James was thick inside of him, filling him up, and Alec’s hungry stare magnified everything.

“That’s…lovely,” Alec bit out, hurrying to undress and crawl forward on the bed. When his mouth sunk down around Q’s cock the man cried out, the dual sensations almost overwhelming.

“We’ll go slow,” James said, biceps tightening as he guided Q upwards, pushing him into Alec’s hot mouth and then back down onto James’ cock.

“Jesus, I’m not going to last long like this,” Q breathed, breath hitching as Alec squeezed the base of his cock and slid further downward. The position only allowed for slow, measured thrusts, but soon Alec’s pointed tongue was drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He let the feelings sweep up and over him, let them grow suddenly sharp and vibrant and then he was coming hard into Alec’s mouth. He felt like his whole body was on fire, branching outward from his bollocks and cock, Alec sucking and swallowing it down while James held Q’s bucking hips firmly against his body.

“God, you’re beautiful when you come,” Alec said plainly, smiling upward through his eyelashes as he wiped his bright pink lips with the back of his hand. James gave Q a few moments to slow his breathing before grabbing at his hips and rolling their bodies over. He pulled up on Q’s waist until he was on his hands and knees and then began to thrust in deeply, the new position much more freeing and allowing him to get more power.

Q hung his head down, the dark fringe sweeping across his glasses, his entire body flushed a deep red. James ran his hands along the sweat-slicked skin before grasping at the sharp hips, feeling the tightening of his own body. Alec and James’ eyes met and James smiled, the moment strangely tender despite the slapping noises of skin against skin. Then James came, filling the condom and moaning out curse words mixed with love you and Alec. He fucked hard into Q until he was pushed down against the mattress, face pressed to the side and lips parted.

When James looked up, he saw that Alec had spilled out over his hand and onto the sheets, a sated look settling over his features.

Alec grinned and leaned forward to kiss James sweetly and run a hand along Q’s sweaty neck and shoulders, tracing along the freckles.

“Next time I get to fuck him. Or fuck you while you fuck him.”

“I am right here,” Q said, annoyed. James pulled out slowly to a soft whimper from the man beneath him, binning the condom and falling heavily on the sheets on the opposite side of Q.

“You are adorable,” Alec said, bending down to kiss Q on the nose.

Q scrunched his nose upward and rolled over between the men, stretching languidly against the pillows. He huffed and yawned, pleasantly sore and body buzzing. “I’m not sure if aligning myself with the base’s two biggest trouble makers is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Alec murmured, green eyes bright.

“Oh, shut up,” Q said with a grin, leaning forward to silence Alec with a kiss. He flopped back on the pillow, the sheets sticky against their skin and the bed entirely too small, but he found he didn’t care at all.


	3. Black lace knickers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: After his debrief, Bond still has to stay in MI6 to be checked up in medical, do paperwork and he has a meeting to attend, which doesn’t leave him enough time to pop into Q branch. However, when he does see Q (in the corridors, and in that meeting), he teases Bond with sneak peaks of his lace undies (from that picture) and suggestive actions (unnecessary bending over, seductive looks, swaying of the hips, innuendoes etc) and Bond can’t contain himself and fucks him the first chance he gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork is [here](http://alexzoexiaoxiao.tumblr.com/post/60993288970/00q-sketch-simple-color-commission-so-everybody) by the talented alexzoexiaoxiao.

James shifted in his uncomfortable chair, unbelievably bored and itching to leave. The success of his latest mission reverberated through his body, and the excess energy was always abundant and insistent in its urgency. Why they were forced to sit through endless debriefings immediately upon return was beyond him. Then there were the after-action reports, the number of times he discharged his gun, the pokes from Medical and Psych. And then, finally, the stop in Q-branch where he could either see Q’s proud face as he returned his equipment intact, or be dressed down with his acerbic barbs for some contrived nonsense. James didn’t know which he liked better. The thought caused him to shift in his seat again, this time for a different reason entirely.

A soft knock on the door caused Mallory to pause from his monotone speech, mid-sentence. Q’s head popped through the door, looking apologetic and youthful, shaggy hair falling forward.

“Sorry to intrude, Sir,” he said softly, glancing apologetically toward James’ direction. His expression was even, betraying absolutely nothing as their eyes met briefly. Q always had a good poker face; it was an absolute necessity in their line of business.

“What is it, Q?” M said, ushering him in with a quick beckoning motion. Q opened the door all the way and slid in, walking crisply across the carpet and between the two chairs placed in front of the desk, the left one occupied by James.

“You said you wanted this report immediately, Sir,” Q said, drawing the manila folder from where it was tucked beneath his arm. Q bent his body forward to drop it on the desk with his left hand, his hips slightly beneath James’ eye-level. As he extended his arm his dress shirt hiked up just enough to give a glimpse of creamy white skin, and the tiniest peek of black lace just above the waistband of his trousers. James gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, his senses immediately heightened. That little minx.

Q drew his arm backward, clasping his hands behind his back as he tipped upward on the ball’s of his feet to bounce slightly.

"Yes, thank you," Mallory murmured, looking through the report quickly. "I’ll send 007 own to you shortly." He nodded, clearly a dismissal.

Q turned to look down at James, the space between James’ clenched fingers and Q’s thigh suddenly seeming very small. “I trust you’ll be making me happy, 007.”

James let a smirk play at his lips, his fingers shifting subtly on the armrest. “Yes, Quartermaster. I’ve brought it all back for you.”

Q smiled dryly. “It’s a miracle.” A tiny quirk of his eyebrow had James whirring, inwardly. The long limbs and Q’s tongue… It was a combination he’d never known he wanted so badly until one day Q had simply locked the door to his office and yanked down James’ trousers. His own tongue came to the roof of his mouth and he fought to lick his lips as the images came back to him in full force, this time with Q dressed in the black lace knickers he had just glimpsed.

Q turned to walk out and James looked absolutely straight forward, eyes fixed on Mallory’s frown. James’ index finger traced back and forth against the stitching of the armrest, the only outward sign of his agitation. Happily, Q’s report seemed to capture Mallory’s attention, and he was soon waving him out with a distracted hand motion. James didn’t need to be told twice.

He bypassed Medical, taking the steps down two by two and walking into Q-branch smartly. Q didn’t look up as he approached, as was the norm for their little game. See how long they could go with no one noticing. Though the constant locked office was a bit of a dead giveaway. They went through the motions quickly, James sliding over his pristine equipment for once, and Q rewarding him with a sly smile and a “good boy.”

"I’ve something new for you," Q said, posh voice completely neutral. He turned and walked, long legs looking even longer as James knew what was hidden beneath. He followed quickly, locking the deadbolt and resting heavily against the door.

 

"Are you trying to kill me?" James murmured, hand palming his hardening cock through his trousers. Q was undressing slowly, his mustard cardigan and white dress shirt discarded on the floor in a pool of fabric, hand slowly sliding down the flies of his trousers.

"It’d be a good way to go," Q quipped, turning around. As he bent down to slide his legs out, the rest of the black lace was revealed. Q’s skin was blindingly bright against the dark fabric, a little black bow running across the top of his arse and the V of the bottom cut high and revealing the roundness of Q’s very firm arse. He stood against the wall, hands braced against a bookshelf, head looking back over his shoulder, hair mussed and hips arched backward.

"Spread for me, love," James said, voice incredibly deep. Q obliged, sliding his legs outward, his hips pushing out even further to compensate. James breathed heavily, eyes trailing over the delicious sight spread in front of him. The black panties were tight over Q’s curves, and the bulge of his clean-shaven bollocks nestled close to his body and slightly exposed was incredibly arousing.

"Now turn." James watched as Q turned with a languid slide of limbs, long fingers sliding along his ribs and running over the tip of his cock that was very hard and jutting out of the top of the lace panties luridly.

"Hands behind you," James said, finally gathering himself together enough to take a step forward. He advanced on Q’s mostly naked form, eyes raking over the skin as Q shivered, cock leaking clear fluid and chest drawn tightly back as he held on to his own wrists.

"What do you do to me?" James murmured as he sunk to his knees, nosing against the base of the panties and breathing in Q’s smell of soap and warmth. Q moaned breathily as James’ tongue swept up, up over the lace and winding around the head of his cock.

"Should I suck you off? Have you come all over yourself in these naughty knickers?" Q’s head lolled to the side, hips pushing outward as he leaned his shoulders back against the bookshelf. "Or bend you over? Grab that arse and pull that lace to the side as I fuck into you?" James’ tongue dipped into Q’s slit and the younger man bucked his hips forward.

"Yes," Q breathed out, brain beginning to become blissfully muddy.

"Yes to which?" James asked between licks.

"Don’t care. Both."

James smirked, fingers skirting the edges of the lace running along Q’s arse and dipping inward. He tugged the lace to the side, feeling Q’s soft, shaved skin. James’ fingers spread Q open to him completely while Q writhed and bucked, knickers tight and wet from James’ tongue.

"As you wish," James murmured. Q’s cries echoed loudly in the small office.


	4. Q wears James' shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: The only thing Q is wearing is one of James’ shirts and it’s just barely covering his ass. James & Alec are intrigued.

The sex was good and sweaty, and the three men lay there on the mattress, panting and exhausted until Q’s stomach growled loudly. Alec tumbled out of the bed, scrounging around for his trousers which contained his mobile, having drawn the short straw as the one to track down food. The finding of pants and socks was always an inevitable and difficult search as they were quickly shucked off in a mad dash to the bedroom and thrown in any direction. Lack of free time, and lack of time the three of them were all in the same country always made their encounters hasty and desperate. Not like they minded.

Alec located the trousers from where they were dropped near the couch, and fished around in the pockets for the mobile. He scrolled through the contacts, finding the only dive chinese place that would be open at the late hour and pressed the call button. He pulled on his pants, settling onto the soft leather of the couch cushions and relaying the order for the three of them, his mandarin rusty but passable. As he pressed the end call button and brought the phone down his eyes were caught by Q walking out of the bedroom. It wasn’t an unusual sight, but what he was wearing made Alec almost drop the phone.

Q had on James’ crisp white dress shirt, the cuffs unbuttoned and loose around his bony wrists, one button barely holding the two pieces of the front together. The only other thing he wore was his glasses. As he walked languidly the shirt shifted, revealing glimpses of his flat stomach and trail of dark hair running downward enticingly. His legs looked incredibly long, the shirt falling at the top of the thighs, knees knobby and toes bare. He smiled at Alec briefly, lifting his hand to run through his mussed up dark tresses, pushing the fringe back and letting it fall back into place as soon as he let go.

Alec watched as Q walked around the kitchen island and over by the coffee maker, reaching up to open the cabinet. As he did the shirt tugged upward, displaying pinked skin from both Alec and James’ grasps and the very bottom of the round curve of Q’s arse. Alec watched with interest, the shirt hiking up even further as Q felt around on the top shelf for an interminable and wonderful moment, finally pulling down an unopened box of tea and a package of biscuits. They had just spent the last hour laying sated in bed, but Q in James’ shirt had suddenly piqued the interest of Alec’s cock once more.

“James,” Alec called, raising his voice so James could hear him through the walls. “Come out here.”

“He’s sleeping,” Q replied, busying himself with the K-cups and the electric kettle. “Leave him be.”

Alec stood up from the couch, cock half-hard in his pants. “His loss then,” Alec said with a grin, crossing the room until he came up behind Q, breathing warmly in the space between the shirt’s collar and Q’s skin. Q giggled slightly, the breath tickling against him as Alec’s hands searched up Q’s thighs and felt along the sensitive skin of his hips.

“What are you doing?” Q murmured, hands stilling on the coffee mugs.

“What do you think, love?” Alec said into Q’s ear, kissing behind it gently before running his tongue along the outer shell.

“The takeaway?” Q pushed his hips backward and felt Alec’s hardness brushing against the shirt and his bare arse.

“Fuck it,” Alec replied, hands slipping forward to cup Q’s growing erection. “You’re too damned attractive for your own sake. I’m torn between demanding you take that shirt off and demanding you leave it on while I fuck you.”

“Yes, please,” Q murmured, his blood all heading southward. He set down the cups and turned his head, kissing along Alec’s shoulder and bicep as one arm curled around his chest. “Let’s get James.”

“I thought you said not to wake him?” Alec said into Q’s neck, his other hand circling around Q’s cock and beginning to stroke him in slow, lazy pulls.

“He’ll be mad if we don’t.”

Alec considered it for a moment before pulling Q backward into his body. “Alright. But leave the shirt on.”

“Ok,” Q agreed, smiling and twisting backwards to kiss Alec on the lips, the tip of his tongue licking at the corners. They walked back to the bedroom slowly, Alec’s hands disappearing under the dress shirt as Q giggled and danced away. They fell in a heap on the king-sized mattress, James opening an irritated eye at their laughter. He was silenced by a kiss from Q and a hard cock pressed against his stomach as Q straddled him, the tails of the shirt sweeping down onto James’ legs as the front parted, revealing everything. James woke up very quickly after that, and they pressed Q between their two larger bodies, takeaway forgotten and coffee running cold.


	5. Q pole dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q surprises James with his pole dancing skills. Written for [britishdetective-americanhunters](http://britishdetective-americanhunters.tumblr.com/) (who drew my avatar!!!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Refer to [this gifset](http://britishdetective-americanhunters.tumblr.com/post/61619493164/phenex-stone-joodleeatsrainbows-x) for a visual. :)

“Where are we going?” James asked, grabbing Q’s hand and swinging it gently. The evening sun was glowing somberly, setting much too early for their liking as fall kicked into full swing. For once in their lives Q had begged off of work at a reasonable time and they were able to walk down the street with the normal business workers and happy families that were present for the dinner rush.

“That Italian restaurant you like,” Q said, then added, “But I’d like to show you something first.” James looked at Q quizzically but the man gave away nothing, just a faint smile and a tug of their hands. They walked silently down the street, hands clasped loosely and enjoying being together with no responsibilities or pressures for once, the crisp air cooling their lungs.

Around the turn was a gym that James had never seen before. They walked through the glass doors, Q pulling out a card to swipe against a reader and swinging the gate open to admit them. James was completely baffled; MI6 had a perfectly good gym. He’d seen Q running on the treadmills there several times, in fact.

“This way,” Q said, smiling mischievously at James’ puzzled expression. Q led them through a maze of corridors and into a studio in the back that was empty and dark. He flipped on the lights, bathing the area in a soft fluorescent haze. The floor was covered in a light hardwood that creaked as they walked, the back wall completely lined with mirrors and a ballet bar running along the length of it. And in the middle was a long silver pole, extending from the floor to the ceiling. Q grabbed James by the hand and walked him to the back wall, pushing down on his shoulders.

“Sit.” James obeyed with a raised eyebrow, settling down on the floor and watching as Q removed his satchel and thick wool coat, setting them down next to James. Next he toed off his shoes and socks, long toes wiggling against the wood of the floor. Lastly came the black hoodie and then the undershirt, tugging it out from his waistband and pulling it off over his head, careful of his glasses. He was clad in only tracksuit bottoms and completely naked from the waist up, and James took a hard look at Q’s thin chest and prominent ribs. His skin was pale and unblemished, wiry muscles bunched up artfully, dark nipples a strong contrast against the lightness. Q removed his glasses, smiling at James’ assessment before turning around. As Q walked toward the pole the yellow light bounced off of him softly, making him appear both youthful and achingly beautiful. James swallowed, watching spellbound.

Q fiddled with his phone, a playful and sultry melody seeping out from the tiny speakers which was quickly amplified as he plugged it into the sound system. And then Q grasped the pole and jumped up slightly, his body drawing tight as he hooked a leg and swung in an arc. As he came around full circle he pulled his chest downward and legs upward in an elegant gliding motion until he was inverted completely, legs spread in a perfect V, toes pointed. He kept his legs completely straight and moved them forward before kicking them back and using the momentum to flip downward and away from the bar in an elegant dismount.

Q caught his balance and looked upward, a proud and shy smile on his face. “I’m still learning. But… I wanted to show you.”

James stared at Q, completely flabbergasted. “I can’t…” James began, mouth opening and closing as coherent thought escaped him completely.

Q frowned slightly and James scrambled upward, kissing Q quickly and running his hands along his spine and shoulders.

“That was amazing.”

Q smiled, thrilled. “Do you want to see more?”

James nodded emphatically. “Yes. And are there cameras in here?”

Q’s smile turned sly. “No. Why do you ask?”

“You know why, Q.”

Q pulled himself from James’ embrace and walked back to the pole. He shot James a dirty grin before grasping the pole once more and sweeping upward. The muscles in his arms stood out as he used pure arm strength to swing his body in a straight curve outward before hooking one elbow around and arching his body upward in a continual loop. James returned to the floor to watch the smooth flurry of limbs, absolutely enthralled until Q finished his routine and climbed onto his lap, pressing happy kisses against James’ jaw. The hardwood was rough under their skin, but they didn’t even notice.


	6. Rock Paper Scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alec rock paper scissors over who gets to be the middle of the sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Salios](http://salios.tumblr.com/), my internet wife.

The flat was chilly and Q wrapped the blanket tightly around his shoulders, James and Alec reclining on the couch on either side of him. James was attempting to play footsies with him, his cold and sock-less feet creeping up under the blanket and running over his ankles as Q tried to push the man’s legs further away.

“Stop it,” Q said, eyes remaining fixed on the screen. They were having a bloody movie night and they weren’t going to interrupt it for sex. Again.

Alec tried next, a little smoother. He reached into the popcorn bowl on Q’s lap and dug around, catching a few kernels. He brought them up to Q’s lips and Q obliged him, licking slightly against the calloused fingertips to take in the offered food. The butter dripped along his lips, greasy and warm, and Q’s pink tongue darted out to swipe at it. Alec’s fingers lingered and Q let him skim across the skin, tongue reflexively swirling around one fingertip.

When Q realized he was sucking at the salt on Alec’s skin he paused, glancing downward, torn between taking in the finger more and batting Alec’s hand away. Why were the two of them always so hard to resist? Q shifted under the blanket, pulling out an arm and grasping Alec by the wrist. He meant to push it downward, back to the popcorn, but instead he just held on. He turned his head, meeting Alec’s hunter green eyes that were dark with delight and promise.

Q smiled, the point of his tongue running up along the underside of Alec’s finger causing the other man to make an undignified grunt. James seized the opportunity, grabbing the popcorn bowl and setting it on the coffee table. He placed a large hand on Q’s thigh over the blanket and searched underneath it with his other, hand finding it’s way to the base of Q’s shirt. He burrowed upward to reach warm skin, fingers freezing and causing Q to arch forward into Alec’s touch.

“You two will be the death of me,” Q mumbled around Alec’s finger, shivering from both James’ cold hands and the sudden electricity in the room. Q leaned forward to move closer to Alec’s lips, brushing against them softly as he alternated between canting his hips forward and pushing his arse back into James’ body. He always felt torn in two directions, indecision between the two of them frequently frustrating him. James moved closer, his whole body melting into Q’s from behind, pressing him down against Alec and making the decision for him. Q felt the tension leaking from his body as his skin heated up even further, trapped between the blanket and the two men.

Alec’s kisses became more heated as his hands ran along Q’s neck and then back further to grasp James’ ears, pulling the other man forward. “How do you want to…?” Alec said into Q’s lips.

“I don’t…” Q began but broke off with a gasp as James’ hands made it into his trousers and wrapped around his cock. He let himself be pulled backward onto James’ lap, legs splaying as he scrambled for balance.

“Want you,” James murmured into his neck, hands playful and much warmer now. Q closed his eyes and threw his head back, the side of his glasses rubbing against James’ cheek.

Alec slid down to the floor, reaching upward to draw down Q’s trousers and pants and move forward to nose at the base of Q’s cock. James’ hand brushed against Alec’s lips with each slow downward stroke and Q’s sighs became breathy and high-pitched. 

“You had him last time,” Alec said with a petulant crease to his brow, tongue coming out to lick down along Q’s bollocks. Q was squirming between them now, held in place by James’ free hand wrapped around his waist. His hands felt around on the couch cushions, reaching for anything to grab onto before settling in Alec’s long hair.

“Please,” Q breathed. “I don’t even care. Just, let’s get this going.”

“Love you,” James murmured against Q’s neck, licking and nipping against the skin as his hand twisted slightly at the end of his tug. Q bucked upward, into James’ hand and Alec’s mouth.

“Now, please,” Q said a little more emphatically. Alec drew up to his feet, bracing his hands on James’ legs as he stood and reaching out to pull Q upward.

“Alright,” Alec said with a smile, looking over Q’s flushed cheeks and glazed eyes with a satisfied grin. “We’ll be there in a second.”

Q narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“One second,” James added, giving Q a tiny shove. “I need to turn off the kettle.” Q gave them both an odd look but turned to pad off to the bedroom, popping into the small ensuite bathroom.

When he emerged a minute later, James and Alec still weren’t in the bedroom yet. He peeked out from the door frame curiously to see the two of them flashing hand signs, James with a triumphant grin spread across his face as he slapped his outstretched hand down over Alec’s fist.

“Two out of three?” Alec asked with a hopeful arch of his eyebrow.

“Oh hush. That means you get me.”

James looked up to see Q staring at them from the bedroom and he bounded forward, grabbing Q by the waist and kissing him fully. 

“What were you two doing?” Q asked when James pulled back, grinning furiously.

“Nothing, love.” Q looked at him suspiciously but soon forgot his questions as both of their hands traveled into his clothes and made his toes curl. 

They made it to the bed, the three bodies shifting and jockeying until they were pressed comfortably together, Q, James then Alec. James in the middle was his favourite, definitely. Or maybe it was Alec, while James’ tongue curled around his cock. Q felt the thoughts whirl through his brain as he shuddered with each thrust, the power of Alec into James and James into him almost overwhelming. And then, when the flush of orgasm creeped over his skin, he decided he didn’t care anymore about what was his favourite one bit. He loved it all. He loved them both. Everything was perfect.


	7. Naked cuddling in a cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Q together in Siberia, running on a mission gone very bad: they hide in the woods but Q is almost freezing to death. James finds a cabin somewhere, lights a fire and warms him with his naked body. And then…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fusterya. :)

It was so far beyond cold that James could feel his toes literally freezing off. Q clutched weakly at his waist, hanging on for dear life as Bond used his strength to propel them forward. Sleet was coming down in sheets and they ducked their faces against the onslaught. As James stumbled, snow sliding into the gap between his gloves and coat, he cursed MI6 and M and all things espionage-related in general for ending up in fucking Siberia. He also cursed the idiots who fucked up their mission, blowing their cover and causing them to ditch their truck and walk the remaining way to the safe-house. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but three miles in near white-out conditions was slowly changing from grueling to life-threatening.

Mercifully, the cabin came into view as they stumbled over one last hill. Bond ripped off his glove to key in the security code before barging open the door with a horrid creak and dragging Q in behind him. The place smelled of dust and decay but it was dry and a hell of a lot warmer than the bitter cold of the outdoors. Q clung to Bond when the man tried to deposit him on the lone twin bed.

“I’ve got to do the security sweep, Q,” James said, reluctantly prying Q’s icy hands off of his biceps.

Q nodded stiffly, his body beginning to shake and convulse on the thin sheets, struggling to wrap the blanket around his shoulders.

James was quick, checking the exits and the tiny closet, and starting a fire in the measly fire place. He returned to the bed with an emergency hand warming packet, ripping it open and pulling off Q’s gloves. The fingers were tinged blue and rigid, and James wrapped his hands around them, closing them around the hand warmer.

“Christ, Q,” James said, concern colouring his voice. Q couldn’t say anything, just sat there uncomfortably, shivering. James blinked, weighing his options before beginning to pull at Q’s parka, sliding down the zipper and pushing his hands inside.

Q blinked at him, slowly, not comprehending. And that look on his face was what worried James the most. He moved quickly, ridding Q of the coat, thick jumper and undershirt. He pulled him upward, sliding off his trousers quickly, and hurriedly untying the laces of the bulky boots. He placed Q down on the bed, looking at the blue and frigid flesh with growing unease as he shucked his own clothing quickly and threw it into a pile on the floor.

James dragged the bed as close as possible to the fireplace and wrapped his body around Q’s icicle-like form, pulling the blanket around their naked bodies. Q’s feet were absolutely freezing against his, and he moved to hold them between his calves and press Q’s slender body against his own tightly. They lay there in silence, every chatter of teeth loud and frightening as James looked down at Q’s gravely pale expression and closed eyes.

Very very gradually the shaking stopped and colour was beginning to return to Q’s features. He burrowed his face into James’ shoulder, his hands still cold as James grasped them, but not quite as frighteningly so. There was a bit of relief as the immediate danger of death by blizzard faded away. 

As Q shifted against him, James briefly wondered why he had thought removing both of their pants was such a good idea. He could feel his body reacting to the close proximity of Q’s naked form. He had certainly imagined it before, sometimes late at night during a quick and dirty wanking session, and seeing it here, in person, hugged against him was something else entirely. He shifted his hips, hoping Q wouldn’t notice.

But he did, of course. The clever little bastard. He tilted his head up, alarmingly close to Bond’s lips, giving him a small smile. His hair had dried in wild spikes and his cheeks were a little flushed, the heat from the fire finally heating him through and through. Q slid his cold hands down James’ back and he shuddered, not just from the chill. 

“Q…” he said, both a question and a warning.

“James,” he answered with a smile, moving his hips forward and brushing his hardening cock against James’ thigh.

James bit his lip, sudden excitement thrumming through his body. He drew forward to capture Q’s cool lips in a kiss, licking against the corners while Q pushed his body against him. As they kissed and petted and ground their hips together, James could feel heat curling all the way down to his toes as the chill was slowly driven from his body. He felt velvety fire spread through his veins as Q’s lips circled round his cock, warm and wonderfully hot against him. And later, when Q was coming inside James’ mouth with a yelped expletive, he forgot entirely that they were on a twin bed in the middle of nowhere in a bloody snowstorm. It was just cool skin pressed close and Q’s bony elbows jarring him awake in the dawn as he smiled sleepily.


	8. Q plays the violin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James finds Q playing the Game of Thrones intro theme on a violin. They muse on life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For alexandre00q

Q closed his eyes, the feel of the bow light in his hand as he held it loosely. The violin rested beneath his chin and he raised the bow in anticipation, sliding it along the strings. His fingers moved quickly with muscle-memory that he infrequently used, yet the motions came back with ease each time. The strings bit into his the soft skin of his fingertips as he depressed them, a quick-moving melody in a haunting minor key spiraling outward. The low notes were filled with a deeply resonant timbre and as Q played on, he smiled slightly to himself.

There was a simple delight in playing something well, in fingering the notes and hearing the tones ring out with clarity and sweetness. And the completion of a difficult passage, played with precision and emotion, caused a swelling of satisfaction at the successful accomplishment and the joy of creating something beautiful and passionate. Q loved his work; he loved puzzle-solving and being inquisitive and helpful and the quick-thinking it required. But sometimes he loved the creating from just his fingertips. The notes swelled and retreated, and when he pulled off the bow with a flourishing downstroke he opened his eyes, surprised to see his own living room in front of him and even more surprised to see James watching him from their bedroom door.

Q dropped the violin from his chin, looking apologetic through the fringe of his hair that had fallen down over his glasses. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

James smiled and shook his head no, although Q knew with certainty that he was lying for his benefit. The thought was sweet. “I don’t mind,” James said, voice rough with sleep.

Q set down the violin and bow on the coffee table carefully, walking forward and wrapping his arms around James’ waist, pressing his head to the larger man’s shoulders. He breathed in the smell of his skin, warm and clean.

“I liked the melody. Is that a new one?” James said into Q’s hair, dropping a kiss onto his forehead.

“Yeah.” He wrinkled his brow, tilting his head upward until James leaned forward and brushed against his lips gently. “Game of Thrones,” Q said softly, grinning sheepishly.

“When have you had time for that?” James asked. His hands slid along Q’s back, feeling the softness of his pajama top and bunching it up in his hands.

“I haven’t. Too many things left undone, you know,” Q said with a touch of disappointment in his tone. “Never enough time to just be me.”

James let one hand slip along the exposed skin of Q’s back, feeling the man shiver gently. “Come to bed, love. There’s always time for regrets later.”

Q let himself be pulled backward, crawling under the sheets and melting into their warmth.

“I don’t regret anything,” Q said, resting his head on James’ bicep and curling his legs against him. “I just wish… Sometimes I think about how things could be different. What if I were a famous violinist. And you were a writer. And we spent our nights drinking coffee and discussing Vivaldi and Paganini?”

“Instead of security councils and death tolls?”

Q was silent, rolling onto his back and looking at the muted light from the streetlamps streaming onto the ceiling.

“We could quit, Q. I’d do it tomorrow.”

“No,” he said softly, tentatively. And then, with more conviction, “No.”

James brushed Q’s hair back, pulling off the glasses and twisting to set them on the nightstand. Q’s skin was a luminous shade of grey in the semi-darkness, eyes bright and thoughtful.

“It means a lot to me, though. That you would offer,” Q said quietly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. They didn’t have conversations like this often.

“I would do anything for you, Q.” James’ words were simple and straightforward, ringing out with truth. He ran his fingers along Q’s jaw and up behind his ear, inching closer until he was hovering over Q’s body, their eyes meeting finally.

“I know,” Q said, eyes closing for a brief moment as his emotions suddenly got the better of him. He opened them to see James looking down at him seriously. He leaned down to kiss Q’s lips, the emotions plainly painted with each sweep and nip, hands moving forward to caress against Q’s skin. James pulled off the soft shirt and his own tracksuit bottoms, pressing his body against Q until they were joined from lips to toe.

There were no more words between them, just the soft touch of smooth fingers against light freckles and breath tickling against shoulders and ears. Q moaned breathily under Bond as he slid inside him, moving with a tenderness that almost was painful to Q’s heart.

Afterward, when James held Q tightly to his chest and their breaths slowed, Q felt tightness in his chest welling up in an almost overwhelming flurry. He swallowed thickly, kissing along James’ shoulder and biting his own tongue. The unsaid words hung in the air between them, but Q knew that James understood. He knew it in the way James’ fingertips lingered, still shaking with fine tremors from his release, and in the way his eyes closed tightly, blonde lashes wet with unacknowledged tears. Q didn’t have to say anything. And that was what he loved about James.


	9. James punishes Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is too engrossed in his work and forgets that he and James wanted to eat out together. James thinks that Q needs to be punished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For i-wear-a-wormstache-now.
> 
> Notes: This contains spanking. FYI!

James looked up from where he was seated on an uncomfortable stool, posture slouching due to the prolonged waiting he was unhappily tolerating. He drummed his fingers on the table before pulling out his mobile, navigating to the games page and beginning a hand of solitaire.

Q looked up from his work to grimace at James, placing a hand over his headset to mouth a silent ‘sorry’ before turning away.

James breathed in deeply and let out his breath all in one huff, jabbing at the phone angrily before finally depressing the button to turn the thing off. He slid it into his pocket and went back to staring, slight annoyance turning into ire as he watched Q’s hands fly across the keyboard. Q always did this to him. They’d have dinner plans and something inevitably life threatening would come up. James would end up eating cold pizza alone in his flat, or sitting at a restaurant table with only a glass of wine as his companion. The routine was getting old, quick.

Twenty minutes later Q finally finished, sliding the keyboard back and slumping exhausted into the desk chair. He closed his eyes and removed his glasses to rub at them with the base of his hand before looking around to locate James. Q frowned when he couldn’t, getting up to walk a circuit around Q-branch before bumping into R at the far end.

“James got bored. He’s in your office playing with your computer. I sent him there because he was bothering the interns,” she said in an apologetic tone.

Q rolled his eyes and sighed, gathering up his laptop and heading up the stairs to his small office that overlooked the rest of the large workroom. James was in fact sitting at his desk, clicking away on Q’s desktop. He didn’t even look up when Q entered, just frowned.

“Shut the door.” James’ voice was steely and Q gulped and immediately obeyed, knowing what that tone meant. “Come here, Q.” James pushed away from the desk, standing up in a fluid motion as Q walked forward and tipped his head upward, the laptop clutched in his hands in front of him. James took it from him and set it on the desk. He moved closer, closer until his lips were just in front of Q’s and they were sharing the same breath. James let the moment intensify until Q was leaning forward slightly, lips almost touching. When he pulled away Q’s lips followed fruitlessly, causing the brunette to sway forward on his feet.

James walked around behind Q, grasping him by the wrists and drawing his hands backwards, pulling them tightly together in one hand. “I don’t like being kept waiting, Q.” The dark voice tickled against Q’s nape and caused him to shudder.

“I’m sorry, James,” Q whispered, eyes fluttering shut as he felt James’ lips a hairs-breadth away from his ear. In the darkness behind his eyelids, Q’s world focused down to James’ breathing, the hand grasping his wrist and the hot words against his ear. Q was rock hard in his trousers and James had barely touched him.

A tug on his wrists caused Q to stumble backwards, and James led him over to the small futon occupying the far end of the room. Q used it for short kips during his excessive work hours, but it also got a workout from their quick shags when Q just couldn’t get away. James sat on the edge, looking upward as Q stood in front of him, hands crossed obediently behind his back and biting his lips as they turned a lovely shade of red. The fringe of his hair hung down over his glasses in a youthfully shaggy look, completed by the buttoned up ensemble of tie and cardigan and an obscene bulge tenting the front of his woolen trousers.

“This is how you should be for me, Q. Hard in your trousers and waiting.” Q swallowed, shifting his weight slightly at James’ words. The waiting was always hard for him. And the anticipation. James reached upward to slide the tongue of the black belt out, drawing it through the loop and unbuckling at the clasp. He slowly lowered the zip as Q watched, tongue coming out to swipe across his lips. Then James slid down the trousers and the pants and Q’s cock bobbed upward, achingly hard and red, the tip already wet with pre-come. James ran a fingernail up the underside and Q shuddered against him, drawing his arms back and pressing his wrists together to keep from moving forward.

James sat further back on the futon, eyes raking over Q’s form before he crooked a finger authoritatively. “Over my lap. Now.”

Q immediately did as he was told, dropping to his knees and draping his torso over James’ lap awkwardly without the use of his arms. He slid his body forward, his cardigan tightening against his shoulders as it bunched, the tails of his dress shirt brushing against his naked arse. He turned his head to the side, looking from the side of his eyes to see James’ piercing blue ones staring back with dark desire.

“Very good,” James praised, right hand gently pulling off Q’s glasses before moving to card through the shaggy tresses. Q closed his eyes again, moving his head into the touch as he shifted his hips slightly, cock brushing against James’ still-clothed legs. James left hand slid gently against Q’s thighs, running lightly along the soft skin and up over Q’s arse, roughly parting the cheeks as Q mewled and spread his legs. James pressed his flattened palm against the skin and Q felt his entire body tense in anticipation of what was coming. James drew away and then brought his hand down in a hard spank that echoed in the small room, Q jerking his body tightly and crying out as it stung. A second spank quickly followed on the other cheek, the matching sting sizzling across Q’s skin hotly.

James rubbed his hand in soothing circles along the reddened flesh as Q swallowed again and shifted, cock achingly hard. “You won’t keep me waiting again, will you, love?” James said, voice deep.

“No, James,” he said, crying out once more as James’ palm spanked against him hard, raining down in a quick torrent.

“Are you sure?” The spanks grew impossibly harder and Q was shuddering against him, fighting to keep his hands in place.

“Yes. Yes!” The stinging pain magnified with each smack, Q wondering if he could take it but it kept on going and he did.

“Promise me.” James’ palm was unrelenting, hard.

“I promise, James. I swear. I’ll do anything you want.” Q’s voice was completely broken and he sobbed out with each blow. “Please.”

James finally stopped, satisfied smile on his pleased face. His finger ran over Q’s red skin, hot to the touch and trembling beautifully beneath his fingertips. Q’s eyes were shut tightly, dark lashes fanned against his skin, cheeks completely flushed and lips parted as he panted against the cushion. The cardigan and dress shirt had bunched up completely, revealing the small of Q’s back that was startlingly white compared to the reddened skin of his arse and thighs. Q’s flat stomach was pressing down against James’ suit trousers, cock rubbing pre-come into the expensive fabric.

“You are gorgeous, little Q,” James said as his hand dipped between Q’s legs and nudged along his bollocks before grasping the long cock. Q shuddered harshly, his body jerking so tightly he almost leaped off of James’ lap. James released him and Q nearly sobbed in frustration. “Now up, love.”

Q drew backwards onto his knees, standing upward on shaky legs and looking down at James once more, eyes slightly unfocused and cock jutting away from his body luridly from underneath the bottom of the shirt. His hands were still crossed behind his back and the constant maintaining of that position was causing his shoulders to positively ache. James’ undid his own belt and zip quickly, yanking down the layers of fabric while Q sunk to his knees and swallowed him down without the command.

James leaned back against the cushions, the sight of Q’s bright-red stretched lips and marked body enough to make him come quickly with a sharp gasp and shuddering muscles bulging with strain as his blood rushed beneath his skin. Q swallowed it down and sat back, licking his lips and regarding James with glazed green eyes, waiting on his haunches for what was to come next.


	10. Bond has a psychotic break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond has one too many missions go terribly wrong and has psychotic break. He’s suspended until further notice and wanders through MI6 and comes across a low level techie, our Q, getting bullied. His basic instinct to protect gets triggered and latches on to Q. After dealing with the bullies Bond still hangs around and even sneaks into Q’s flat to check on him. Q doesn’t really know what to do with this ghost of a 00 but his presence seems to be helping Bond deal with his demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Runemarks.

One day it was just too much. The blood running over his fingers, both literal and metaphorical, was warm and terrifying. It covered his shaking hands, his scarred forearms, and his expensive trousers. The slippery spatter slid down his forehead and into his eyelashes and he blinked, taking in the carnage splattered everywhere. He sat down on the concrete, cold and unmoving, until the extraction team came. It took three men to pick him up and carry his dead weight to the waiting car.

When he returned to MI6 all he could do was stare. He stared at M when his careful timbre escalated into exasperated shouting. He stared at the parade of doctors from psych and medical who poked at him with careful words and sharp objects. He stared at Moneypenny’s concerned face, only vaguely registering her fear and disappointment. And then he stared at a bottle of scotch and his own shiny gun sitting disdainfully on his kitchen counter, newly clean like he would never be. The alcohol burned his throat the whole way down and he drank until he felt absolutely nothing.

He was on suspension but had nothing to do and nowhere to go. He finally went to the gym, his shoulder aching with each upward press of weights, but he did it anyways. When he closed his eyes he saw the blood again, red and lurid, so he turned up his iPod and tried not to blink. He showered quickly, the slide of water making his skin crawl, the feel of tracksuit bottoms against wet skin no better. He grabbed his gym bag and headed out of the locker room, ear buds still in place and nearly mowing over a group of lab technicians.

“I’m sorry,” Bond said gruffly, one hand coming up to show his non-involvement without touching anyone. As the three men shifted and said nothing, Bond looked at them a little closer. The smaller of the three was shoved against the wall, the other’s bodies pressed close. A hand was wrapped around the thin wrist and a mug of tea was spilled all over the floor, spattering up onto the man’s leather shoes. Bond stared at the liquid as it pooled and dripped, an aching feeling in his chest.

“What are you doing?” he said, his voice suddenly icy. He felt himself slip into a combat stance, bag dropping down loudly.

“It’s nothing,” the man pressed against the wall said, voice almost convincing. His eyes were wide behind his thick-rimmed glasses and his small mouth was set in a tight line. Bond looked at the other two men, knowing he could break them in half in an instant. He felt himself burning up within, the pain and the anger he had worked so hard to repress suddenly breaking free and lighting him on fire.

“Get the fuck away from him,” he snarled out, hands balling into fists. One of the men dropped his hands, taking one look at Bond’s menacing glare and sweat-slicked muscles before turning to slip away silently. The other, the one who still held on to the smaller man’s wrist, refused.

“No,” he said, rather stupidly. Bond felt the anger coursing through him in chilled waves and suddenly he had the man shoved against the wall, arm twisted behind his back and pulling up on the joint painfully. The man whimpered and Bond smiled at the noise, both triumphant in his success and disgusted with his own easy violence.

“I don’t think you heard me correctly,” Bond said in a deadly calm voice. He pushed the man forward until his head ground against the wall and his eyes shut tight with a grimace. “Leave him alone.” He pushed the nose into the wall, watching blood begin to spill out. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” the man babbled, body completely still. Bond released his grip, watching the man scamper away as he wiped the blood from his nose. He looked down at his own hands. Still clean, but he could still feel the crush of bones and phantom wetness beneath his fingertips. He stared at the skin, knowing it was in his mind but still unable to stop the crushing guilt. He felt the indescribable need for another drink.

Throat clearing made him look up, and he saw the smaller man looking at him from behind his glasses. He was still frozen against the wall with rigid limbs, his chest moving noticeably with the quick breaths he was taking. He bent down to gather up his tea-soaked papers and the pieces of the mug, Bond joining him, feeling his knees crack as he stooped down. They swept up the items and returned to standing, Bond awkwardly handing him the papers and stepping backwards.

“Thanks…” the man said quietly, not meeting James’ eyes.

“You’re welcome.” James looked at the man’s long fingers grasping the mug, noticing the trickle of blood against the white skin. He frowned.

“Well…” he said and then turned to walk away on unsteady feet.

“Wait,” Bond called, taking a step forward. “Are you alright?”

The man nodded, pulling his arms in tighter. His body was drawn inward and the quiet look of embarrassed shame was both heartbreaking and beautiful.

“Ok, then.” Bond watched him go, noticing the lab coat shift as he scrunched his shoulders and his gait having the awkward limp of someone who’d been roughed up. Bond didn’t like it one bit.

That evening he used his clearance to access the employee database. Q. Three months in technical services. Certified genius. Bond frowned into his drink, uncomfortable with the feeling of something other than numbness and self-hatred. He wiped his hands on his trousers even though they were freshly scrubbed until raw and scrolled down the page, reading everything.


	11. Red Riding Hoodie Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt from Salios: Red ridinghood!Q and wolf!Bond. Because you were the idiot who gave me the idea. Points for an au rather than bedroom roleplay and even more for dirty, dirty smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salios is my internet love. This contains an age difference.

The rain was light, spattering upward and splashing over Q’s dirty converse and dark jeans. He kicked at the puddle absently, hands stuffed in his pockets. Raindrops were slowly streaking along his glasses and dripping down his nose, and he paused to pull the hood of his red hoodie up over his head. The floppy dark hair peeked out from the sides, the rain slowly matting the strands down until they stuck to the side of his face.

The walk to town was long and Q pulled his backpack tighter over his shoulders. The anger he felt earlier when he had slammed the back door of his step-father’s house had dissipated, and now he was left with the regrets of his hasty decision and nowhere to go. He did have some family about two hour’s drive away, but no car and no money to get there. The rain began to pick up, coming down in stinging sheets and Q hunched down, ducking his head to the onslaught. His shoes were slowly getting soaked and each step was an uncomfortable squelch of wet socks and soaked jeans that stuck to his thighs unpleasantly.

The sound of a sputtering engine approaching and then decelerating caused Q to look up, squinting in the rain. A large pick-up truck materialized, the cab tall and an antique blue, the body covered in brown and orange rust stains. The window rolled down and a man stuck his head out of the window slightly, yelling over the rain.

“Hey there. Need a lift?” He looked old; older than Q by at least ten years. Maybe fifteen. He had cropped blonde hair, prominent ears and an incredibly attractive jawline. Q swallowed, making quick calculations. On one hand this was a complete stranger, and this was the exact type of situation that began horror movies. On the other, he did need a ride and his jeans had soaked through to his pants. Making a snap decision, he scurried around the car and hopped in, slamming it shut behind him and sweeping the hood away from his face.

“Thanks,” Q said, rubbing his hands through his hair to squeeze out some of the rain and attempting to fluff it back to its normal buoyancy. He turned to get a closer look at the driver, now that the rain wasn’t splashing into his face. His early assessment of incredibly attractive stood, now that the clear blue eyes were looking at him inquisitively. The man seemed to exude a comfortable confidence, the small smile on his face closer to a smirk, and had a well-muscled body hidden beneath a dark bomber jacket with fur trim on the down-turned collar.

“James,” the man said, extending a hand. Q took it and shook, the grip solid and confident.

“Q,” he replied, letting their hands remain connected for a moment before drawing it back. “Thanks for the lift.”

James turned to face the road again, moving the gear shift back into drive and stepping on the accelerator as the truck’s engine puttered and then roared to life.

“Where are you headed to?”

Q looked forward, a bit unsure how to answer the question. What he really wanted was to just get away and be anywhere else at all, but that wouldn’t do. So instead he said, “Cardiff. I’m visiting my grandmother.”

James smiled with teeth showing, eyes on the road, and Q was struck by how wolfishly attractive the man was. Q shifted on the seat, buckling the seatbelt and looking over the dash of the truck, noting the old radio dials and the cigarette ash in the ancient looking ash tray.

“I’m headed that way, actually. Picked up a job in that general direction. I work construction. Mostly carpentry.” He gave a nod of his head to indicate the truck bed, and Q turned to see a variety of stacked wooden beams and a tall ladder, all getting thoroughly soaked. That explained the muscles, certainly. Q looked at James’ hands on the wheel, noting the calluses and the dirt under the fingernails.

“Alright then. Thanks.” They turned at a fork in the road, the headlights sweeping across the ever darkening countryside, illuminating a wooden fence and a skittering critter of some sort.

“So what were you doing walking in the rain in the almost dark?” James’ voice was light but Q squirmed slightly at the question, shrugging.

“Just walking.” Q looked out of the window, watching the last glow of the sun slowly extinguishing until there was almost pitch blackness surrounding them.

James gave him a sideways look that was indecipherable in the darkness but said nothing more. They let the hillside roll past the windows without much comment, covering superficial topics lightly between lapses of companionable silence. A few flirtatious comments from James were mixed in as well, to Q’s embarrassed delight. People like James weren’t interested in him. Ever. When they reached a small town about an hour in to their drive, they agreed to stop at a diner for a late dinner.

Q hopped out, jeans still wet and cold against his legs. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra pair of trousers, would you? Or pants?” They met near the hood of the car, James giving him a looking over. He stood slightly taller, much thicker, a quiet power radiating off of his form. The black jacket shifted as he put his keys in his pocket, licking his lips slightly. Q’s eyes were drawn to the sudden movement, once again overwhelmed by the man’s good looks.

“I don’t think they would fit you.” Q flushed at the results of the examination, suddenly thinking how he’d asked this stranger for pants. This very attractive, nice stranger, who was looking at him with something that might be hunger in his very beautiful blue eyes.

“How old are you?” Q felt his heart stop at the question.

“Old enough.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Old enough to be legal?”

Q bit his lip and nodded. “Yes.” What was he doing?

He let James walk nearer, and let him push him up against the side of the truck. They were opposite of the entrance, the parking lot vacant and the light of the restaurant blocked by the large cab of the truck. Q felt the wet fabric pushing against his skin, uncomfortable against his growing erection. James was close, so very close, one hand placed on the truck to the side of Q’s head, the other grasping at his hip as the fingers slipped beneath his damp waistband. He moved even closer, fitting his body into Q’s, and Q could feel hardness pressing into his hip.

Q whimpered slightly, the caged feeling and James’ lips on his neck a bit overwhelming. He let the man mouth along the tendons, running his teeth over the skin and drawing a small bite right at the juncture between neck and shoulder. Q involuntarily pushed his hips forward, grinding their bodies together.

“I need to take these off,” Q breathed, pushing his hands between their bodies and fumbling with the button. James laughed softly against his skin, pads of his fingers sliding over the back of Q’s hand and guiding the flies downward. He slid his hand inside the jeans and over the wet pants, feeling Q hard beneath his fingers and resuming his biting kisses along Q’s long neck. Q mewled against him, spreading his legs and arching upward, hormones reeling.

It only took a few tugs and Q was coming in his pants, spilling onto James’ thick hand as he sucked a hard bite into his shoulder. James stroked him roughly through the shuddering spurts, licking along his neck and into his ear, murmuring filthy praise.

“Fuck,” Q breathed out, shaking and limp, held up only by James’ thighs pressed against him.

James smirked against Q’s skin, licking along the bite marks that would surely be bruises the following day.

“You need new pants now for sure.”


	12. Q in Bond's lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: 00Q sex? Oh pleeeaaase yes! Q is riding Bond for the first time, sitting in Bonds lap, and both realize what a pleasant position this is, with Q being all flushed and Bond hardly able to hold back, but of course he’s nothing but caring. Thank you!!

It was the first time Q had invited Bond back to his flat. They’d done the banter and the dinners and the drinks. There was also the quick blow job in the backseat of Bond’s immaculate Aston Martin while Q clutched at leather, feeling guilty about coming on Bond’s cherished upholstery. But this felt a little different, bringing him back to his home, revealing pieces of who Q was to a man he wasn’t sure he knew all that well. They paused to kiss by the front door, Bond pinning Q against the wall, running his hands everywhere, mouth searching and destroying.

They stumbled to the living room, Q falling down on the couch gracelessly, vaguely wondering how many glasses of wine Bond had plied him with. The man knelt down in front of him, removing his glasses and setting them down gently on the coffee table. He ran his hands over the lines of Q’s face tenderly, Q feeling the intense scrutiny of those beautiful eyes and fighting to keep himself from shying away. Then Bond was kissing him again, hands insistent, peeling away layers of clothes and insecurity. When he was naked and pressed against the couch, Bond stopped to look at him with an open expression.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, hand sweeping down along Q’s hip before hoisting him upward to pull him onto his lap.

Q smiled shyly, face flushing a deep red. He wasn’t used to such compliments. And that fact that it was coming from Bond, the fact that he was sitting on Bond’s naked lap on his worn, tatty couch. That made it all the more exciting and frightening. Q tried not to think about it and leaned forward to capture the smiling lips in a kiss. He moved to slide his leg over so he was straddling Bond, squeezing his thighs tight and reveling in the feeling of thick muscles trapped between them.

The room was warm and Q could feel perspiration tingling over his body as Bond’s hands swept downward, down over his back, across his arse, fingers moving lower to nudge against his entrance while he sunk his teeth into the pale neck in front of him. Q scrambled for the lube he’d put on the table just for this purpose, flushing further as Bond quirked his eyebrow at his premeditation. But the man said nothing, just took the bottle and coated his fingers, moving lower and sliding inside as Q screwed his eyes tight and arched his body forward against Bond’s.

The press of Bond’s large fingers was beautiful and tight, and he squirmed against the intrusion. The slide of his cock against Bond’s felt wonderful as their lips pressed together, tongues entwining. Bond pulled his fingers out, grasping onto Q’s arse and thighs as he fumbled with the bottle to get his cock slicked up. Then he was holding Q by the hips, fingers strong and careful, sliding Q down on his cock little by little. Q made little whimpers as Bond opened him up slowly, gently, wonderfully. When he was all the way inside he held still for a moment, allowing Q time to adjust. Q laid his head against Bond’s shoulder, breathing deeply, mind wonderfully blank for once.

Q mouthed against the shoulder, licking along the old scar there, before whispering into the skin, “Okay.”

Bond nodded, grasping Q by the hips once more before moving to thrust upward shallowly. Q drew his knees up, allowing Bond to slide in even deeper each time until they were working together with a slow rhythm. It was nice, very nice, wonderfully nice, and Q closed his eyes, just feeling, just enjoying. He mouthed along the skin at Bond’s neck, loving the growling noises the man made as he ground his hips in tiny circles every time he thrust upward. Bond was going slow, so slow, and it was almost torturous.

Q pulled back to smile, looking down at Bond’s face that was gradually losing its mask of control. The man was breathing heavy, red lips parted, eyes beautifully clear. “It’s ok, Bond. I won’t break.”

He grinned a little bit, biting his lip before angling upward more forcefully, causing Q to cry out. Q’s face was flushed scarlet, hair matting down at the edges. Bond began to speed up, grabbing Q’s lips for kisses when he could. Q moved his hands between their bodies, grasping his own cock, squeezing in time with their rocking thrusts. His thighs were beginning to burn from exertion and he could feel the pleasure beginning to build-up in his blood, slowly, slowly until he was right there at that knife’s edge.

“God, Bond. I’m gonna… ” And then he was coming, spilling out over his hand and onto Bond’s stomach. Bond fucked into him hard as he rode out the orgasm, Q biting his shoulder to muffle his loudest cries. Tremors racked his body as he arched forward. Afterward, he lay boneless against Bond for one surreal moment, breathing in deeply and feeling a pleasurable satiety in his muscles. Then he moved his hips downward and squeezed, encouraging the other man to keep moving. He reached down behind him to grasp at Bond’s balls, feeling them tighten against his fingers as his hips began to snap harder and faster.

Q kissed the lips, nipping along the bottom one, and then suddenly Bond’s fingers were digging into him and he was coming, grunting out expletives and something that sounded like fucking beautiful.

Q pretended not to hear, holding onto Bond’s shoulders for dear life as the man bucked into him hard and gasped into Q’s sweaty shoulder. When he was finished, Q collapsed onto Bond’s chest while large arms wrapped around him and held him tightly. After a few long moments he moved upward, letting Bond slide out and feeling the come dripping down his legs. He swung his leg off and flopped onto the couch, briefly thinking how he would absolutely need to get the thing steam cleaned as soon as possible.

Bond turned to capture Q’s lips in a quick kiss before pulling him against his chest. Q thought the rise and fall was quite nice, and the muscular arm around him was quite pleasant, too. Perhaps he could get used to this.

“You alright, Q?” Bond said into the top of his hair. He pulled his arms tight, clutching Q against his body.

“Yeah,” Q said with a little laugh. “I will be. You?”

Bond smiled and kissed his hair. “Yeah,” he said, a little breathless. “Just need a minute. That was…”

“Nice?” Q supplied, head burrowing closer.

“I was going to say fantastic.”

“Oh. Well. I agree.”

Bond’s grin was huge. He pulled Q upward, kissing him soundly while Q laughed against his lips.


	13. Bond gives Q a massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: Bond finds Q hunched over the laptop in pain (anything from a bad headache to just a massive bad day) and offers a neck rub to ease the misery. Making out a massive plus.

A noise to the left caused Q to turn his head quickly, momentarily forgetting the pinched nerve in his neck and eliciting a stream of muttered curses beneath his breath as pain radiated sharply through his shoulder.

“007. What do you want?” Q was in no mood for the agent’s annoying banter. The day had started out bad and gotten worse, and he could feel a painful migraine coming on.

“Why are you so chipper today, Q?” Bond asked with a pleasant smile, waltzing up with his usual confident gait and stopping just shy of being too close to be polite.

“Life in general. I’m considering ending it all, if M wouldn’t phone down to Hell and have me reincarnated to finish this godforsaken expenditure report.” Q frowned down at the papers in front of him, dropping his pencil and moving a hand upward to rub against his brow in frustration. “Who uses paper anymore? We’re fucking MI6. It’s 2013. Jesus Christ.”

James bit back an amused grin at Q’s rant, watching as the younger man shoved at the papers haphazardly, causing several to rain down like cheerful confetti onto the white linoleum floor. Q sighed, lower lip sticking out in an adorably glowering pout, and James lost the fight with his smile. Q gave him the dirtiest look he could muster before heaving a sigh, stooping down to gather the papers. Bond crouched down next to him, fingers brushing against Q’s as they reached for the same one, eyes meeting briefly. Q looked so very tired, lines creased on his youthful face and dark circles prominent. Bond wondered how long it had been since he’d last been able to sleep.

“You look terrible, Q,” Bond commented, handing him the paper and adjusting his cufflinks as he straightened upward.

“You sure have a way with words,” Q quipped, grasping onto the table to pull himself up and groaning at the sudden pain shooting through his neck. “Buggering fuck.” He rubbed against his skin, feeling for the knot resting against his spine and grimacing as he poked right into the center of it.

“Here, let me,” Bond said, moving behind the man to place a large hand over his.

“No, I’m fine,” Q said, twisting away slightly with a grimace to free himself from Bond’s grip. He rubbed at his shoulder again, misery drawing his features into a tight frown.

“Q,” Bond said, fixing him with a look. “Let me.”

Q stared at Bond’s face for a full minute, tired brain mulling over the notorious flirt’s possible motives. The blue eyes looked earnest, and when Bond finally cocked an eyebrow Q grumbled a small grunt of acquiescence and turned to sit on the chair again, casting a small look over his right shoulder. The small movement caused him to groan again. “Alright. Hurry it up.”

Bond chuckled, hands moving up quickly to rest on Q’s shoulders, the thumbs digging in softly. Q let out an undignified moan as the left thumb dipped inward, seeking out the knots and sliding over them with deadly precision. The pain increased as Bond pressed inward into the center of the knot and Q tightened up his muscles, sitting rigidly on the chair.

“Relax,” Bond said, voice warm against Q’s nape and much closer than Q had thought. Q’s eyes slid closed and he breathed in and out deeply, feeling the tendrils of pain radiating outward, dissipating. Bond worked quietly, the hum of Q-branch workers buzzing gently around them with minimal staring at their intimate posture.

“Bond?” Q murmured, voice rough and quiet. 

“Yes, Q?” he answered, pausing his hands and resting one softly against Q’s neck, trapping the collar against the skin.

“Thank you.” Q turned his head slightly again, wincing at the still tender sensation and looking at Bond’s face hovering very close by. Soft green eyes flicked downward to the agent’s lips before glancing back upwards, the moment hanging heavily between them.

Bond inched closer, hand squeezing Q’s shoulder, the other moving upward to lightly run along his chin and tilt it gently upward, causing Q to grimace slightly. The touch of their lips was soft and fleeting, and Q drew away as he felt the twinge in his neck spasm in anger.

“Sorry,” Q breathed, using his feet to rotate the chair until he was facing Bond, looking up into the clear blue eyes that were blinking at him from only inches away. Q leaned upward to close the distance between them, the second kiss long and lingering, Bond’s hands kneading sublimely into his neck and shoulder. They broke apart and Q smiled shyly at the examining gaze. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. Bond released him and straightened up, smoothing down his suit jacket and glancing around. The few people in the room were suddenly occupied with looking extremely busy, and Bond smiled downward at Q’s sudden manic rustling of papers.

“Dinner tonight? When you’re done?”

Q bit his lip and looked down at the pencil’ in his grasp, beginning to scribble on the paper in front of him and snapping the tip clean off. “Alright.” He dared to glance up one more time and couldn’t help but grin at the look of delight that was written all over Bond’s face.


	14. James is a businessman and Q gets angry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt: James is a really influential/powerful individual and Q is his husband. James is so intimidating a lot of people who want things from James start trying to go through Q. Q's oblivious to it at first, he just wants to invent things and do his job, until someone makes a crass remark about spouses being able to whisper suggestions into their husband's ear at night and he gets really mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [runemarks](http://runemarks.tumblr.com/).

The party was posh and Q was bored, as usual. He pouted into his drink, sipping idly at the clear liquid as his fingers traced the edge of the dark marble bar. James was off talking to someone or another from his office, his annoying PA in tow. Even these types of “fun” events were work for James, and Q being his eye candy was less than his ideal evening. Of course, when James came up to him from behind and whispered filthily into his ear while his hands wrapped around Q’s waist, that changed things just a little.

“You look gorgeous, love,” Bond said warmly, lips fluttering against Q’s neck before retreating quickly. The blond held on to Q’s hips as he snapped at the bartender impatiently and pointed to his drink, and she jumped to refill it. She knew his order; everyone knew it. Martini, dry, shaken and not stirred. He plucked the olive from the rim of the glass and pulled it along Q’s lips, smiling as the other man darted a tongue out to taste before drawing it off the silver toothpick and taking it between his teeth. Q swallowed with a purr, licking his lips and enjoying the way his husband watched the movement with interest.

“Can we leave yet? That harpy from accounting keeps trying to bend my ear and watching you look dashingly handsome in that tuxedo is making my trousers tight.”

James smirked, tipping back his martini glass to take a sip before rubbing a fingertip suggestively up the stem. “Soon, love. I’ll fuck you hard when we get back to the hotel. There’s a king-size bed and a whirlpool tub waiting for us to dirty up.”

“Good.” Q shifted his hips to turn towards James, biting back a slight grin as his cheeks flushed. James always did have a deliciously filthy mouth.

James leaned forward to kiss him fully, tongue parting the pink lips ever so slightly as Q pushed his body up off the chair and against James’. Their tongues slid softly against each other, a promise of sex and excitement, before James broke away with a roguish grin. A cough by his side alerted them to the presence of his ever-chipper PA. She was there, always there it seemed, always dragging him off. James smiled apologetically and left Q there, alone at the bar and hard in his pants. Bastard.

Q wallowed in his drink until he somehow found himself in a circle of people, all employees of James. They were all intelligent but frighteningly dull, as Q had absolutely nothing in common with them. He was rather uninterested in James’ company’s politics, and preferred to stay that way. James was ruthless and smart, and kept his ship running incredibly smoothly. But Q also knew he had an iron fist. In fact, it was kind of exciting. In bed at least. At all other times it was just annoying.

“What was that?” Q said absently, stirring his drink with his straw. The woman in front of him smiled politely.

“I was saying that perhaps Mr. Bond’s interests in the China deal would be better served elsewhere. Seeing as how the revenue is down and the project is five months behind schedule.”

Q raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure he’s thought of all of the intricacies of the situation. He’s quite smart, you know.”

“Yes, but if you could just mention to him…” the woman pressed on, oblivious to Q’s annoyance. “Because, really, it is in his best interest, and yours of course, to pull out immediately. The investors are getting quite anxious and frankly, those of us in accounting can’t seem to get him to give us a moment of his time at all.”

Q finally nodded just to get her to shut up. “Yes, yes, fine. I’ll mention it.”

She smiled sweetly at him while Q took another large gulp, grimacing at the taste. He was not usually a liquor drinker, but this party was drawing him down into the depths of depression. He searched over the heads of the vapid people surrounding him, seeking out James’ blue eyes and ruthless smile as he was conversing with an obviously nervous looking man. Their eyes met and Q quirked an irritated smile, unsure if he was vexed at being left alone or just simply tired of the whole shebang.

Q knew he was no longer listening to the conversation, but he caught a little whisper as he turned his head back to the woman who was still spouting off in front of him about accounting figures and stock trends. A whisper about spouses and bending ears, and something else unsavory that sent an unpleasant twist in Q’s stomach.

“Pardon?” The two men to his left stopped talking, and one had the gall to speak up and repeat his words.

“I said, it must be nice to have that kind of power. Over Bond. Just for drawing your legs back.”

Q blinked for several moments, almost unbelieving what he’d just heard. Yes, his husband was powerful, but… He pulled back without another thought and let loose a hard punch, contacting with the man’s jaw with a loud crack and causing him to stumble backward.

“What the fuck?” the man cried out, drink splattering across his tuxedo as he clutched at his reddened jaw.

Q stood there breathing heavily, chest heaving, face growing red with livid anger. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

James was at his side moments later, one hand on his shoulder while he looked over the small group with a thunderously angry expression. “What happened here?” he barked out, voice menacing and brows drawn. There was silence as the man opened and closed his jaw with a painful grimace as the others looked on unhappily.

“I was just leaving,” Q said frostily, shaking James’ arm off and turning to deposit the drink on a high table before stalking out of the room. On his way out he heard muted shouting, a glass crashing to the floor and then a spluttering apology stammered out from the frightened man. James was absolutely terrifying when angry, but for once Q felt a vindictive twist of glee as it was unleashed on someone so deserving.

 

Later, when Q let James pound him into the mattress roughly, he felt the blond’s anger come out with each heated lick and rough drag of a fingernail against soft skin.

“I fucking love you, Q. No one hurts you. No one says a goddamn thing to you.” James bit harshly onto Q’s shoulder as his fingers dug into hipbones, drawing Q’s sharp body into him again and again.

“Love you love you,” Q wailed into the pillows until he came an eternity later, hot and trembling into the sheets. His hips would bruise, and Q would press into them later with his long fingers, hissing at the brief pain and remembering with a satisfied little smile.


	15. Fingering on the phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond fingers Q while Q's on the phone, Q's trying his best to speak calmly. Maybe they've got a day off and Q called work and so this sweet torture is punishment for Q. Consensual plz. I really love fingering :) Would be great if at some point Q hangs up and just enjoys, or they fuck. Thank youuuuuu!!

“No, no. Click on the folder labeled ‘priority alpha.’ Then the third file down…” Q turned his back away from James, rolling on the bed to curl around his mobile. James looked fondly at the soft curve of his lover’s naked back, the jut of shoulder-blades and vertebrae sharp in contrast. He stroked idly down the spine, enjoying the slight shudder from Q at the sensation.

“No! I told you last time. The file extensions were changed.” Q moved to put the mobile on his other ear, propping himself up slightly on his elbow so he could swat back at James’ forearm. James chuckled, moving the hand upward to sweep across his ribs and up to his neck, resting against the tendons. The morning sunlight was streaming through the parted curtains and he stifled a yawn with his other hand. For once in their busy, busy lives they had a morning off at the same time, and James was damn sure he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Even if Q did rudely accept a work-related phone call during their morning snog.

James’ fingers rubbed at the base of Q’s spine, lips coming to kiss along the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Q arched his head upward slightly, body squirming and ticklish beneath James’ light touches. “Right. Then call R,” Q continued, soft voice even-keeled as ever.

James’ fingers trailed downward while his kisses grew wetter, tongue lapping against Q’s skin sleepily. He reached the grey pants, hands running over the fabric and giving Q’s firm little arse a squeeze. Q jumped his hips forward, twisting to shoot James’ an annoyed look. “Yes. I said that already. Aren’t you listening?”

Ignoring Q’s expression completely, James bit down on the top of the brunet’s shoulder while his hand dipped even lower, sliding to brush against the base of Q’s bollocks that was hiding between his drawn up legs. At that, Q finally gave out a small squeak into the phone, swinging his legs outward to pull himself into a sitting position and turning to glare at James with bright green eyes.

“What? No. Nothing,” Q said quickly into the tiny speaker. He placed his hand over the phone and mouthed ‘stop it’ to James’ smirking face before turning his back to him once more. James took the opportunity to kiss against the bony spine, hands sliding up and down Q’s ribs and pressing his larger body close. He slid forward so his legs were spread on either side of Q’s, stomach pressed to back and morning erection nestled against Q’s arse. He grinded forward a little, reveling in Q’s suddenly deeper breathing and shifting of legs in front of him. The dark hair was completely disheveled, just like James liked it, and he took time to run his fingers through the locks, letting them fall through his fingers. He pressed his lips underneath Q’s long ear, opposite of the side with the phone that Q was now only loosely holding.

“I said…” Q began, stopping to close his eyes as one of James’ hands circled forward to stroke against his thighs and inch upward, closer and closer to Q’s hardening cock. “I said no to that yesterday,” Q finally continued, voice growing slightly higher in pitch. “Absolutely not.”

The long neck arched as James’ fingers finally danced along the front of Q’s pants and lightly stroked upward. James kissed and bit at the newly exposed skin of Q’s neck, tongue soothing away the red marks that his teeth left in small lines tracking across the tops of his shoulders. .

“No!” Q’s voice was growing stronger and slightly louder, tinged with a bit of desperation. “You better fucking do what I tell you.” When James pulled his body away and slid his hand down the back of Q’s pants and between his cheeks, fingering against him, Q let out a strangled groan.

“I can’t….No, 007’s not with me. I just dropped something. On my foot.” James’ fingers had withdrawn, only to return well-lubricated and searching. He stroked at the tight entrance, the tip of one finger pressing slightly upward while Q jerked against him, the phone slipping down slightly. Q scrambled to gather it up, pressing it closely against his ear as the index finger slid in further, to the first wide knuckle.

“Right. Right. Just do it. Do what I say.” Q was growing less coherent by the second, eyes beginning to cross as James’ finger started to thrust in tiny movements, wiggling back and forth while his other hand gave steady strokes to his cock.

“No. Fuck,” Q said into the phone. “I don’t care. Just fucking do it and call me back when you’re done.” He didn’t even wait for a reply, jabbing at the phone and throwing it across the room haphazardly, finally letting out a breathy moan.

“Fuck, James. That was fucking important and you know it.”

James laughed against Q’s shoulder, a second finger pressing against him and pushing its way inward. Q spread his legs, sliding them outward until they were right against James’. “You are a gorgeous thing, Q. I couldn’t resist.”

Q smiled ruefully, alternating between arching upward into the stroking tugs on his cock and grinding backward on the fingers thrusting shallowly in his arse. “You never can.”

“Self-restraint isn’t one of my best qualities.”

“But you have so many other nice ones.”

“Glad you think so, little minx.”

Q smiled warmly before his face scrunched up in a sudden sweep of pleasure. He laid his head back against James’ shoulder, letting him mouth against his neck and finally giving in to the sensations, feeling them building with a slow burn. The fingers pushed forward, rocking against him and Q cried out, stiffening in James’ hands holding him tightly from both sides before coming into his pants in rough shudders. It spilled outward, over the fingers and wetting the fabric as Q moaned out, body quivering and eyes clenched shut tightly.

“James,” he murmured as the feelings washed over him, completely and ridiculously perfect and warm and heavy. And then, softer, “James.”

“Q,” James replied into the curls at the back of his neck. A smiling kiss was pressed there while Q shuddered in his arms, happy and sated and boneless. They didn’t move until the stickiness became too much, and the grumbling of Q’s stomach interrupted the silence.

“Eggs and toast or pancakes, love?”

Q smiled and turned, kissing James fully on the mouth for the first time that morning. “I love you, James.”

He grinned back, joy lighting up his handsome features. “I know. Pancakes, then?”

Q smacked James on the shoulder and James full out laughed, grabbing the delicate hand and drawing it to his lips for a tender kiss. “Love you too, Q.”

James’ pancakes were delicious, and sitting next to each other reading the Sunday paper in their pants was just perfectly normal and wonderful. Q smiled into his tea, happiness leaking outward uncontrollably from somewhere between his stomach and the warm liquid feeling near his heart.


	16. Warlord!Bond Translator!Q - Slave Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is given to Warlord!Bond as part of a peace agreement. Warnings: slave fic, dubcon. Though it ends up being very consensual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For runemarks!

The tension was palpable as the blond warlord leaned back in his wooden chair, brows drawn together and brooding expression marring the ruggedly beautiful features.

He uttered a few sharp words in a foreign tongue and Q blanched, his fingers trembling visibly as he translated, “The warlord has agreed to your terms on the condition that I am… included in the deal.”

Of course the general agreed and Q found himself cuffed and collared and at the feet of the burly man without so much as another word. Q sat there in the dirt, staring at the worn leather boots as the sound of his former fellow officers leaving gradually faded away and all that was left was the flapping of the tent and his own rushed breathing. He looked downward until he could no longer bear it, eyes darting upward to take in the wickedly pleased look on the warlord’s features and the intense gaze of pale blue eyes. Q gulped and shrunk backwards, the chains connecting his wrists rattling as he drew inward upon himself.

“You will speak only when asked a question,” the warlord said, the Gaelic consonants rolling off of his tongue harshly. “You will do as I say or else you will be punished. Do you have any questions?”

The moment was surreal and Q felt the colour drain from his face as the realization of his new status settled down around his shoulders uncomfortably and lodged in the pit of his stomach. “What should I call you?” Q asked meekly, eyes down and painfully aware of his own stilted accent.

“Maighstir.” Master. The man stood, rising to a powerful height and pulling a large fur around his shoulders. It wasn’t just his physical stature, although that was certainly impressive, but the set to his jaw and the strength of his stance that made him so imposing. Q looked at the man’s feet again, staring at the laces and the patches where the leather was wearing thin. “Do I need to put a leash on you, or will you follow?” the man asked, voice firm.

Q quickly shook his head no and shifted, the slack between the chains connecting his wrists enough to be able to hoist himself upward to stand once more in front of the warlord. The man took one thick finger and ran it over the reddish-brown leather of the collar wrapped tightly around Q’s neck. It was wide, buckled in the back firmly and stretching over the elegant neck with a metal ring hanging down the front to rest over the hollow of Q’s throat. The collar was tight enough to move each time he swallowed, and Q was aware of its presence and meaning with every deep breath that he took. The warlord’s fingertip pressed along the stitching, sliding underneath to grip the front lightly and tug, and causing Q to stumble forward slightly in surprise. Q’s hands came up automatically and pressed against the man’s bicep and chest inadvertently as he braced himself. Q pulled away lightning quick and moving his eyes downward in a panic, uncertainty and fear coursing through his nervous body.

A light chuckle and a tug on his chain told Q it was time to move, and he allowed himself to be gently pulled out of the tent and into the bright sun. It temporarily blinded him which Q thought to be somewhat of a mercy as he would not have to see any curious faces staring openly at his bound wrists and collar. Q kept his eyes on the ground but surveyed his surroundings from the corners of his vision, noting the many lines of burlap tents, the multitudes of men in long kilts and matching boots, and the uneven dead grass beneath his footfalls. They slowed as they reached a large tent, Q’s master ducking down underneath a flap and pulling him in afterward. Q ducked awkwardly to avoid the fabric without the use of his hands and blinked his eyes to squint in the sudden darkness of the tent’s interior.

When his eyes had adjusted he saw that they were obviously in the warlord’s personal quarters. There was a table to the left with hand-drawn maps spread across the top, and a gauze curtain at the midway point of the room that was pulled away to reveal a dark brown wooden chest and a simple cot, just large enough for one person. Q immediately stiffened, fear arcing through his body in anticipation of what was to come next. He had known what was expected of him, of course he’d known from the moment four hands had held him down and slid the collar around his neck. But suddenly being there and staring down at the sheets while a warlord held his chain loosely as just one of the spoils of war, well… the reality was inescapable.

“Wait here. I have things to attend to,” the man said briskly, undoing the clasp at one of Q’s wrists to wrap the chain several times around a supporting pole at the center of the room before reattaching the other end. He tugged at the chain to test its strength and seemingly satisfied, he disappeared out the tent flap without another word.

Q frowned, waiting for a full minute of silence before testing the links of his chains and the stability of the pole. Both were unbudging even after Q threw the weight of his entire small frame against it. After half an hour of cursing and sweating, Q sat down on the ground with a sigh, resting his head against the wood and closing his eyes. At least he was still wearing his clothes, although Q suspected it had more to do with the chill of the near-arctic air rather than anything else. He had nothing to do but wait and wait for what seemed like an eternity. The upright position was horridly uncomfortable but Q drifted to sleep out of sheer lack of anything else to do.

Soft fluttering of fingers against the back of his neck caused Q to jerk awake and yank his arms backwards before feeling the pull of the chain binding him to the tent pole and restricting his movements. He scrambled to his feet, letting the shackles slide up along the pole noisily as he maneuvered his body sideways into a defensive position.

“Relax,” said the voice, much softer this time. Q attempted to rub at his eyes but only pulled on his chain with frustration. He couldn’t see the man clearly, but he knew that he was nearby, the shadows cloaking everything but a glint from the bright eyes. As he advanced he came into sharper focus, and Q was struck for the first time at the incredible blueness of the irises, and the handsome curve of the man’s lips. Q fought to keep his breathing even as the man reached out and undid Q’s chain from the pole, drawing it around his hand tightly and tugging Q close to his body. Q could smell the earthy mixture of dust and dirt and blood, all powerful and lingering on the man’s skin like a cloak of pride. Closer now he could see the white whiskers trailing along the strong chin and the crinkle of fine lines next to the man’s mouth as he smiled easily. As Q’s eyes trailed across the features and their eyes met, Q felt his heart instantly hammer in his chest. Was he not supposed to look? Was he supposed to keep his eyes lowered? Would his “master” be angry?

The man chuckled and bound Q’s hands together once more, this time the chain much shorter and keeping his wrists very close together. Q knit his brows as it happened, fighting to keep still as one large hand held his wrists against the man’s chest and the other moved forward to undo each button of the army-green shirt and draw it away to reveal Q’s shuddering chest.

“I don’t-” Q began, but the words died at his lips at the withering look that he received. Q swallowed thickly, abruptly very afraid.

“Do as I say. This is your only warning.” The tone was even but there was a hidden current of steel underneath, and Q shivered in the man’s grip. Thick fingers trailed down over his stomach and along the lean muscles, sweeping sideways to grasp Q’s hip and fit his fingers into the hollows of his back before moving downward. The hand grasped the waistband of Q’s trousers and pulled down, catching Q’s pants in the process and dropping the material down until it was resting around his knees. Q’s body grew hot and incredibly flushed as the man took his wrists and stretched Q’s arms upright until he was tight as a bow. He was naked from the chest to the knees, groin exposed and growing painfully hard under the piercing blue eyes, utterly embarrassed and dangling beneath the man’s strong grip.

“You are lovely,” the man said warmly, and Q flushed even further, feeling his cheeks burning all the way to the tips of his ears. The blond’s hand slid over to cup Q’s cock, gentle over the hot skin before gripping him tightly and eliciting a moan from Q. “I’m going to love taking you apart.”

The warlord smiled, amused, as he played with his new toy, and Q shuddered in the large hands, the collar tight against his throat as he gasped out with each tug.

Q felt himself tipping closer and closer to the edge as the sensation of being both clothed and exposed, the tight collar and cuffs, and the strong hands melded together to short out his brain. His eyes closed and it was easier in the darkness as he could separate himself from reality and just let the flickers of pleasure settle along his skin. The hand abruptly stopped its movement on Q’s cock and Q opened his eyes to look over at the warlord with a slightly exasperated pout on his pink lips. He knew he wasn’t allowed to talk but he let out a low mewl from his throat, hoping to communicate his displeasure.

“Very good,” the blond noted, finger returning to trail up the underside of Q’s cock as the brunet bucked his hips. “You are a fast learner.” Q nodded and licked his dry lips, aching desperation taking hold of his body. The finger withdrew and the man stared at him once more, looking at Q’s heaving chest and twitching skin as if he were memorising every dip and curve. The examination caused Q to sharpen his thoughts again and return to reality momentarily. He twisted beneath the man’s grip, his body extending and swinging from where he was held fast at the wrists above his head. Q wiggled his toes in his shoes, spreading his legs as far as his trousers would allow and let out a distinctly needy whine.

The man laughed outright, his free hand rubbing along Q’s earlobe and neck before grasping onto the collar. “Did you think it would be so easy, pet? That I would let you come so soon?”

Q looked downward and bit his lip, and the fear that washed through him this time was the distressing notion that he would be left hard and wanting without so much as a second thought. Or perhaps just for the other man’s pleasure. The man walked him backward and over to the cot, pushing down on Q’s shoulders until he sat down bare bottomed along the scratchy sheets. He unhooked the chain once more and roughly pulled Q’s arm out from one shirt sleeve and then the other and binding the two hands tightly at the small of Q’s back. Q tested the hold instinctively before stilling under the harsh blue gaze.

“I can’t decide what to do with you,” the man said idly, tugging off his own clothes and throwing them one by one onto the dirt floor. “Take those off,” he added, nodding to the shoes and trousers, and Q wriggled out of them immediately, kicking off the shoes to the side and using his heels to slide the trousers and pants from over his ankles and all the way off. Q sat completely naked on the cot, save for the leather collar and the cuffs, and he was very aware of his hard cock bumping against his stomach, leaking smears of pre-come against the skin.

The warlord stared again and Q felt conflicting desires to both draw his legs together and spread them open as Q stared back. The man had removed his remaining clothes and was standing in front of the cot, pale skin lit from the glow of the soft lantern and highlighting each curve of muscle and a patchwork of wicked looking scars. The man was undeniably gorgeous, his warrior’s figure trim and well-built, and large cock jutting out from the body imposingly.

“It’s been a long time for me, pet,” the man purred, taking one step closer and placing his hands in Q’s dark curls, tilting his head backward. The collar nudged against the back of Q’s skull and bared his neck. The man leaned down to breathe along the leather, running his nose over the underside of Q’s chin and up along the earlobe to breathe hotly into the ear. “Should I take you now? Come quickly inside your tight arse as you wail out my name? Or should I put you on your knees and take your lovely, pouting mouth?”

Q closed his eyes, the words washing over him. The Gaelic vowels and consonants began to sound more and more elongated and beautiful to him and his legs spread over their own accord. Though he had been asked a question, Q understood that it was rhetorical and he kept his lips closed. One hand disengaged from Q’s hair and trailed over the collar, grasping at the metal ring at the center and pulling Q forward and into the man’s lips. Q’s squeak was muffled into the man’s mouth as he parted his lips and darted his tongue inward, playing against Q’s own tongue before sucking it inside his mouth. The hand on the ring held Q tightly as the man’s knees came between Q’s and pushed them outward. Q felt his body losing control, the bound hands digging into his back as the push of his legs caused his torso to arch forward. He began trembling, the lack of contact almost painful as his cock lay heavily against him and leaking.

Q wanted to desperately to beg but he knew it was forbidden, so instead he made supplicating noises in the back of his throat and twitched his hips, hoping that he was pleasing to this man so he would be finally granted permission to come. All other rational thoughts promptly flew away, and Q was only a pile of nerve endings and rushing blood. Q didn’t even know if he needed to be touched at this point; the man’s word alone would tip him over the edge.

“I think I want your arse,” the man said as he drew back wetly, licking his lips and looking over Q’s glazed and submissive expression. “I want to hear every grunt and cry I tear from your pretty lips. I want you to feel my cock inside of you. I want you to scream my name when you come.”

Yes. Yes. Q’s mind reeled as he was turned over, the rough sheet a welcome touch on his over-sensitized cock. He felt something liquid being poured over his back and down between his cheeks and jerked with his whole body as he felt thick fingers prodding against him and pushing inward. They worked quickly, efficiently, so as not to excited Q any further, and then the man’s large cock was lined up against him and easing in. The stretch hurt and Q bit his lip as he pushed down against the intrusion, allowing him to slip further inward until he was all the way to the hilt and panting loudly. Q’s bound hands brushed the man’s stomach as he began thrusting slowly, the feeling of powerful hips and thighs incredibly intoxicating as Q mewled into the sheets.

As the man increased his speed Q cried out hoarsely, lashes growing wet as his blood burned hotly just underneath his skin. The hands bit into Q’s hips before grasping onto the chains and pulling backward in time with each punishing thrust. Q felt the tightness in his muscles as they coiled, the build-up of pleasure quickly becoming too much. He clenched tightly around the man’s cock, body completely rigid as he accepted the pounding, his moans turning into sobs.

“My name…” the man reminded with a harsh tug to Q’s wrists. He felt his shoulders and neck aching, the rough fabric beneath him growing harsh as Q struggled in his bonds.

“Master!” Q wailed in English. A loud slap to his arse caused Q to stiffen further.

“No,” the man said harshly as he pulled on Q’s hips to bring them off the cot and flush against the man’s stomach.

Q opened his eyes, confused, before crying out as a second spank landed, far more painful than the first. A third and fourth rained down and Q was crying, moaning out please before he remembered what the man wanted.

“Maighstir,” he breathed out in a choked voice and the spanking stopped mercifully. The thick fingers curled around Q’s cock and he came instantly at the touch, body shuddering in violent spasms as the cock in his arse continued to fuck into him powerfully. A few thrusts later and the man came with a feral growl, holding Q in a bruising grip until the shudders abated.

They listened to their own breathing for a moment before the man pulled out slowly. Q felt the warm come dribbling out and over his bollocks and thighs, the ache in his shoulders and neck suddenly supremely uncomfortable. The man pushed gently on Q’s hips and rolled him to the side, and Q let out a grateful grunt as the pressure on his neck was relieved.

The warlord fell onto the cot, their bodies touching intimately on the small space, sticky and hot. “Lovely,” he repeated as he ran his fingers through Q’s sweat-soaked swirls and down his long nose, lips and neck. The fingers curled in the ring of the collar, pulling him tightly inward and kissing him fiercely.

“Maighstir,” Q murmured against the lips, sweat cooling and body aching pleasantly as he shifted in his bonds.


	17. Candy Drawer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q has a secret candy drawer he always raids when it’s been a particularly stressful day. After a while he notices that someone’s been rummaging around in the drawer but instead of taking things, sweets are being added. These sweets are from foreign countries, conveniently countries that only a certain 00 has visited recently.

The moment Q sat down he felt fatigue wash over his body. The dull feeling buzzing around his brain intensified as he ran a hand over his face, feeling the day-old stubble rub roughly against his fingertips. He stifled a yawn and rolled his head in a circle, hearing the unpleasant popping between vertebrae, and wincing with the stiff pull of muscles. How long had it been since he had slept? And how long had it been since he had slept well, without fear of a panicked phone call or alarm at quarter to five?

Q took a deep breath and stood up once more, his tired brain focused only on the search for caffeine and sustenance. His feet ached as he tread the well-worn path to the electric kettle and poured the hot water into his mug, not even bothering to wash it out. He left the tea bag in to steep and stood staring at the water, blinking before realizing he had almost nodded off there on his feet.

“You alright, boss?” R asked, looking up from her desk with concern crossing her round face.

Q shook his head infinitesimally to clear the cobwebs, straightening up and returning to full Quartermaster mode. “Yes, of course. Carry on.” He watched her with feigned confidence and an arched brow until she buckled under the stare and bowed her head, unwilling to press the issue.

The water had cooled slightly and Q took a sip, savouring the flowery nuance of bergamot and letting it rest on his tongue. Inspiration struck and he made his way to his office, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He sat down at his desk, propping his worn leather shoes on the edge and leaning backward, closing his eyes and feeling his way over to the top left drawer. He pulled it open with a grating creak and rummaged through the items, feeling the soft crinkle of candy wrappers beneath his fingers. He plucked one up and brought it to his lips, pulling the chocolate from the wrapper with his teeth and tasting the rich flavour, letting it mingle with the earl grey pleasantly. Q let out a soft moan at the simple pleasure, pleased to just melt into the seat and not have anyone’s life in his hands for five whole minutes.

Q sipped at his tea, opening his eyes to search through the candy drawer once more. As he fished around for the type with the caramel center, a bright red foil wrapper caught his eye. He didn’t remember putting that one in there. In fact, there was one with a small teal bow looped around the top, and beneath that an entire box of Belgian chocolates as well that certainly were not there before. Q pulled them out and lined them up neatly on the desk, looking at the collection of foreign languages written in small script across each wrapper. His brain was tired, but it wasn’t tired enough to connect the dots. Sweden. Belgium. Italy. Switzerland. He mentally ran through Bond’s last few missions, matching each to a brightly coloured sweet.

Q leaned back in his desk chair, holding the mug against his chest and cheeks flushing a deep pink. Not only had Bond brought him multiple presents, but he’d been rummaging through his desk drawers as well. The thought should have irritated him beyond belief, but in his exhausted state Q had no time for any pretense and instead left him feeling incredibly pleased. He examined the wrappers, attempting to decipher the tiny foreign phrases to determine which contained caramel. After a moment he gave up and chose the one bearing the flag of Switzerland, figuring he couldn’t go wrong there.

The chocolate was dark and rich, a hint of raspberry and toffee lingering after he swallowed. Q licked his lips and settled back, the squeaking of the chair loud in the quiet room. The second chocolate had an orange liqueur center and squished delightfully between his teeth, the creamy chocolate complimenting the flavouring exquisitely. He washed it down with the last of his tea, his mind buzzing with the caffeine and a quiet feeling of excited flattery. Q breathed out through his nose in a small huff, setting his feet down on the floor once more and drawing himself upright with effort as his self-allotted five minutes were finished. He returned to his work station with a renewed focus, the sugar reinvigorating him and hands shaking with the jolt of caffeine. Q lost himself in the work once more and tried to ignore the way in which he looked up each time the sliding doors of Q-branch swished open, hoping to see a certain well-tailored suit and clear blue eyes striding towards him.


	18. Otter JAQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond and Alec are a pair of gods that, after a fierce successful battle, have reverted to their animal forms. Q, a shy good Samaritan with a weakness for taking in strays, finds them and nurses them back to health. Completely unaware that he’s taking care of a pair of gods. When Bond and Alec regain their strength they revert back to their human forms and decide to reward Q.

Q squinted, the light of the sun just at the right level to shine into his eyes and obscure his vision as he made his way home from work. As he pulled down the visor he felt torn between cursing the blinding light and being glad that for once he was able to get home while daylight was still visible. The fall colors bled past the car’s windows, lovely shades of orange and red and brown melting together warmly as Q sped along the road leading to the outskirts of town.

He came to the sharp bend before his house and rounded the corner, perhaps a little faster than he should have. The immediate break from the sun was a relief but caused a bit of temporary blindness as his eyes adjusted. Before he knew it there was what looked like a lump of fur on the road immediately in front of him and Q cursed and swerved, the front of his car careening to the side and lurching into the muddy ditch. The car jolted to a shuddering stop and Q was thrown forward against the seatbelt, hands slamming against the wheel as the breath was knocked out of him slightly.

He blinked for a moment, mentally tabulating any injuries or pain before being satisfied with the discovery of only a vaguely dull ache where the seat belt dug into his chest and hips and a fast-racing pulse as the only casualties. He set his hands down on his lap, forcing in a few deep breaths before remembering what caused his quick swerving maneuver. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Q pushed open the door and climbed out of the car, the sideways movement through the muck awkward and laborious. The afternoon’s rain had left everything damp and muddy, and the leaves stuck to his shoes as he waded up to the road.

Glancing left to right for traffic that was non-existent along this stretch, Q cautiously walked up to the bundle of fur curled up on the painted lines. He squatted down to peer at the lump, slight dread dissipating as he saw the slow movements of laboured breathing. A tiny head moved slightly, and Q blinked as he looked down at what was inexplicably two otters, curled up and bloodied and exhausted. A strange sight certainly, considering that the nearest river or canal was quite far away, and otters had become a rare sight indeed. Q pulled off his coat and set it on the ground, gently scooting the two creatures onto the dark fabric. One hissed at him softly, obviously in pain from the movement, his white whiskers trembling as his lips drew backward. The silvery fur was matted darkly with blood in several places and Q shushed the creatures quietly and pulled the coat tight, standing up and gathering the two in his arms. They were light, their bodies weak, and they trembled and clung together as Q walked them over the short distance to his car. He gingerly placed them on the passenger seat, smiling as the head of the more russet colored otter perked up slightly and looked around at his new surroundings.

“Hey there, little fellow,” Q murmured reassuringly before turning the keys in the ignition. The car sputtered to life and Q jammed down on the accelerator, wheels spinning in the mud and tossing it up to spatter the car and windshield without budging at all.

“Shit,” Q said to himself, but then turned to glance apologetically at the otters. The russet one looked at him inquisitively before laying his head back down on top of the silver one with what Q could almost mistake for a small sigh. “Sorry,” Q said sheepishly, wondering why he was apologizing to an otter.

The wheels finally gathered some purchase and the car backed up enough for the back wheels to reach the road. Q manhandled the car back fully onto the roadway before driving it up the short distance to his home and parking in the front driveway. The sun was sinking below the treeline now and the trees surrounding his rustic house were lit up in an orangish haze. He pulled open the passenger car door and gently gathered up his coat around the two otters, pulling them out and into his arms.

“Easy there. I’ve got you,” Q cooed, attempting to soothe their agitation at the movement. As he drew them close once more, the silver otter made a pitiable bleat and Q immediately pulled them away from his body. “Sorry, sorry.”

The otter moved to look at him, eyes dark and pained before turning to bury its head in the flank of the other critter. Q hurried inside, setting them down gently on his couch before running to grab a flannel and place a pot of water to boil on the stove. He sat down in a worn armchair across from the couch as he waited, watching the two glance around the room and take in their surroundings. The darker otter was obviously in better shape than the lighter one, and he put his nose in the air to sniff cautiously before taking a tentative step off of the coat. His webbed paws sunk into the soft cushions of the couch and he drew backward quickly when it depressed beneath him, curling around the other otter. The small head rested over the top of the other’s and the dark eyes darted around the room while Q looked on with curiosity.

“Otters, eh? What do you eat? Fish?” The brown ears perked up slightly, flicking forward. “Yes, fish? I think I might have some tuna.”

Q got up to look through his cupboards, locating a tin and dipping the flannel into the now hot water from the stove. Padding back to the couch he saw that the two critters had their eyes closed and were sleeping lightly, bodies wrapped tightly together.

“Alright, then. I will clean you up when you wake up,” Q said softly. He sat back on his armchair, watching the two pint-sized bodies deepen their breathing. Q had a weakness for strays; he knew this. Perhaps he liked the caring for them, or perhaps he thought he was a little lost himself. No matter. The two pups needed help and he had the tuna ready for when they woke.

Q’s mind was occupied with the two otters he’d rescued, and he found himself googling in between tasks the entire day. He researched the European variety of otters on his lunch break, scrolling through the pages with his spoon stuck in his mouth, and printing off a few important ones on diet and behaviours. He left early to pop into the grocery store, purchasing more tuna, a package of raw fish and some small rubbery balls for the two to play with. He hurried home, opening the door cautiously in case his new housemates were wandering around on the floor. When he was sure no one was there he flipped on the light, setting the groceries down on the counter and making his way back to his bedroom.

The two otters were curled up in a pile in the center of his bed, sleeping soundly as the late evening light streamed in through the window. When Q walked forward and caused the floorboards to creak, the russet colored otter peeked open an eye. When he recognized Q his head perked up and he uncurled from the silver otter and bounded forward with difficulty through the soft blankets. Q grinned at the welcoming greeting, sitting down on the bed and letting the little critter walk up to sniff at him before rubbing his head against Q’s palm. Q scratched behind the ears and grinned as the otter nearly purred and pushed his head against Q’s thigh.

“Hungry, boy?” Q asked as he stroked beneath the chin with one finger. The otter placed a paw on Q’s trousers with interest before trotting backwards to poke at the silver otter with his nose. The smaller one opened his eyes reluctantly before moving into an adorable stretching yawn that ended with a painful yelp as his body lengthened and his unknown injuries were presumably aggravated. He flopped on his side and looked upward balefully at Q before turning to narrow his eyes at the other otter. The darker one batted at his nose playfully before turning and bounding up to Q, leaping into his arms headfirst while Q scrambled to catch hold of him.

“Alright, alright,” Q murmured, tucking the creature beneath his arm and heading off to the kitchen. The silver otter made theatrical cries as the two left and Q called out behind him, “Oh hush, you.”

He set down the otter he was holding on the counter and he poked his head into the paper bag, sniffing at the fish and licking at the cellophane wrapped around the package. Q hummed happily as he pulled out the groceries and placed them on the counter top. The otter trotted back and forth between the items before sinking his teeth into the fish and jerking his head back and forth in an attempt to tear open the packaging. Q pulled back the cover and the otter dove in, eating his fill messily while Q watched with glee. He went back to the bedroom to scoop up the surly otter lying sprawled on his back and unmoved from the center of the bed, ignoring the half-hearted swats at his hands.

“No fish in my sheets, darling,” Q said as he held the otter carefully, stroking along the silvery fur of the muscular back. He was dry and soft in Q’s hands, the small ribs expanding beneath his fingertips. As Q petted along the spine he brushed against a sensitive point and the otter whimpered in pain. “Sorry!” Q murmured, shifting his grip so he wasn’t touching the tender ribs. He set him down and watched as the first otter moved over so his friend could get his fill of the fish. They chewed slowly, shoulders bumping into one another companionably until the first had finished and turned to pounce on top of the other. They scrapped playfully on the counter, the silver one seemingly forgetting his injuries as they batted their paws and rolled around until the russet one had the other pinned perilously close to the edge of the counter.

Q hovered nearby, hands outstretched to catch them, but they rolled over and scrambled along the tiles with their webbed feet until they found their balance. The silver one shook himself off and began to groom his fur while the other made a triumphant little crow and danced sideways happily. Q rolled his eyes at their antics, pleased that the food and the sleep seemed to be restoring the two to a healthier state even if there were still some other injuries to heal. Q idly wondered if the two would like a bath. His mind returned to his research on otter behaviour and their playful nature, and he got lost in thought about how to construct a slide that would lead from the bathroom counter top into his antique tub. Perhaps when they were a little healthier… and the silver one was less cross.

That evening Q fussed over where to put their makeshift nest of blankets as they stared at him from their perch on the armchair. When he had set the two down on the floor by the foot of the bed, the silver one made pitiful whimpering noises until Q finally picked them up and placed them next to him on the duvet.

“There, you little whiners,” Q told them affectionately as he petted both of their heads before tucking the blankets down at the corners. He drifted off to sleep to their soft breathing, wrapped tightly in the sheets as the cool air sank around them.

Waking was a gradual process. First Q felt the crispness of the morning air, and then the dim light from behind his eyes. Then he felt the sheets cold against him, feet chilled and burrowing downward to pull the blankets against him in a tight cocoon. Next he realized that the breathing of the otters was much louder than it was the previous night. And most importantly there was the fact that he was curled up with a very real arm wrapped around his stomach and his back was pressed into something warm and human-like.

Q’s eyes flew open and he scrambled sideways, prying the arm off of him with difficulty and nearly leaping out of the bed. There were two men laying there, snoring softly. Two naked, bruised, attractive men. Q gaped, mouth hanging open comically before snapping shut as bright blue eyes cracked open and the man gave him a lopsided smile. Q raked his eyes over the form, taking in the purplish bruises along the ribs, the taut muscles of the flat stomach as the man stretched and sat up, and finally the silvery blond hair that was cropped short and lit by the morning sun.

“Hello,” said his otter. The silver one. Who was now shaped like a very attractive man. When the second man opened his eyes sleepily and yawned, Q had to sit down. The man stretched languidly before propping himself on an elbow, the bedsheets just barely covering his hips. Q swallowed, feeling as if he was still dreaming, yet the cushion beneath him felt very real and scratchy, and his quick-beating pulse was hammering away with reality thrumming through his body uncomfortably.

“I’m… I’m sorry…. what?” Q stammered, suddenly realizing he was only in his pants. He scrambled to his feet to search around for some trousers, tripping into the legs while the silvery blond man laughed softly and fell back against the pillow. The one with the longer blond hair that was tinged with a bit of red colouring drew his fingers along the other’s arm, brushing against the skin and resting along the back of his hand in an intimate gesture. They shared an amused smile before the one with green eyes, the russet otter, spoke.

“Sorry to frighten you, love. We appreciate your help, and the fish. And your bed. Much more comfortable than the outdoors.” The man shifted, the sheet falling dangerously low as Q fought not to look, utterly confused at what was happening.

“I’m James, and this is Alec,” the silver otter said. Q nodded blandly, hands in his lap, reality completely suspended in his mind. “And thank you, as Alec said.”

“Yes, of course,” Q heard himself saying, the manners ingrained in him surfacing automatically. “Would you like a cup of tea?” He mentally cursed, thinking of how ridiculous it sounded that he was offering two otters tea after the three of them had slept in the same bed. During which two of them were in the form of a small animal.

“Perhaps later,” James purred, shifting on the sheets gingerly to avoid his bruised ribs. “I’m still a little sleepy. Won’t you come back to bed?” He looked at Q apprehensively, his expression matching the exact one he’d seen on the otter the previous day. It was both strange and endearing and Q found himself walking towards the bed and falling onto the sheets without any conscious thought. He let the two curl around him, the moment completely surreal as their bodies warmed him and calmed him. A large hand found its way into his curly mop of hair and stroked along his forehead, lips following with a chaste kiss just as Q drifted off to extremely pleasant and confused dreams.

 

xxxxxxxx

 

Q awoke to a curious mix of warmth from a firm body against him and the smell of bacon, which were both quite odd as he lived alone. He blinked groggily and felt around on his nightstand for his glasses, putting them on and squinting over at his bedmate. The man with long reddish-blond hair was fast asleep, covers drawn up to his broad shoulder and a peaceful expression on his face. Q remembered that he had introduced himself as Alec and reminded himself that he must think of him as Alec and not “the russet otter.”

Q stumbled sleepily out of bed, pulling on a tshirt and padding into the kitchen to see James, the one with the silvery-blond hair, seated at his table with a newspaper. The butter on the griddle crackled and the smell of a hearty breakfast wafted through the air. Q sat down in the chair opposite, a bit confused on the turn his life had taken.

“Hi there,” James said with a warm smile, lowering the paper. The man had on a pair of Q’s pajama trousers that were ridiculously tight across his hips and Q tried hard not to notice the pleasant strain of the seams. He glanced down at his hands, confusion and arousal at odds in his tired brain.

“Hello,” Q mumbled. He silently accepted a plate from James and chewed slowly as the man watched, spreading butter on his toast and using it to scoop up the runny egg yolk. “Did you already eat?” Q asked politely to fill the silence.

“Yes, thank you,” James answered, his eyes bright. He ran his knuckles idly over his ribs and Q was drawn to the movement, noticing how the dark purple bruises had already faded to a mottled red. He cocked his head curiously.

“I heal fast,” James said in response to Q’s unasked question.

“And… how is that?” Q said in between bites, struggling to formulate his words into something coherent. “That you heal fast? And are an… otter?”

“It’s a bit of a secret,” James said as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. Q automatically did the same, drawing much closer to the man. So close that he could see his scruffy stubble that matched the otter’s white whiskers, and the soft creases of his lips as the man smiled. Q licked his own lips unconsciously as James leaned infinitesimally closer. “I’m not allowed to tell.”

Q grinned, regaining a little bit of his wit back. “Well, you’ve been in my bed. Aren’t we a little past that point?”

James pushed his chin upward, biting his lip with a soft grin as Q’s body strained forward, drawn towards the man like a magnet. “Perhaps,” James murmured with a purse of lips. Their eyes met for an intense moment before Q lost his nerve and looked down, taking a sip of his tea. James sipped his own as well before asking, “Do not have to work today? Alec and I would appreciate more fish. And perhaps a scratch beneath the chin.”

“Late shift. I don’t go in until after dinner.” Q avoided the man’s insinuations of chin scratching, his mind immediately jumping to petting or a different sort.

“Ah.” James’ body shifted in the chair and he grimaced slightly, turning so his torso was resting against the side of the chair. “The pain is a little worse in human form. That’s why we were stuck in our animal forms. And do sincerely appreciate your help. Plus no pockets for money, so the nourishment is much appreciated. ”

Q nodded as if he understood, finishing off the toast and wiping his hands on his trousers.

“Do you think perhaps you could take us to work with you?” The look on James’ face was earnest and Q had to laugh a little at the expression.

“Why do you want to go to work with me? It’s just computers and such.”

“We get bored easily and would probably chew through your shoes if you left us here. And perhaps we could help you. You did save us, you know, so we wouldn’t remind returning a favor as repayment.”

Q bit at his lip, thinking. “Actually, you may be able to help with a wiring project I’m working on. Having little bodies to run through the conduits might be very useful indeed.”

James grinned a pleased grin. “Perfect. And afterwards, fish? I prefer cooked salmon, but Alec, ever the purist, likes it raw.”

Q laughed despite himself, utterly surprised to be discussing the eating habits of otters. With an otter who was now a man and seated as his table shirtless.

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

By the time the evening rolled in, James’ bruises were faded to a light pink and he had transformed back into his otter form to hop around Q’s feet as he headed towards the bathroom. Alec flopped on the floor as James knocked his feet out from under him with his happy dancing. They batted at each other as they scrambled into the room before Q could successfully shut the door on them and put their paws curiously on the shower stall. They liked water, of course they liked water, Q mused as he turned on the faucet.

The two played in the spray as Q undressed, strangely unperturbed by his nakedness. The otters played at his feet and rolled in the small puddles on the floor as Q shampooed his hair into a sudsy pile. He laughed as Alec bit at his ankles, herding him into the corner so they could blink up at the water raining down around them. Q turned to grab for the conditioner and as he came back around he was suddenly face to face with a naked and wet James in human form, with Alec behind him. The shower was small and Q was instantly completely red in the face at the unforeseen turn of events and their close proximity.

“Hello,” he said for lack of anything better to say.

“Pass the shampoo, please?” Alec said with an amused smirk.

Q nodded and bent at the knees to feel around the floor for it, trying to keep his eyes evenly on their faces and failing spectacularly. He spluttered as he handed Alec the bottle, hoping the heat of the shower was hiding his full-body flush. He turned away from them in embarrassment as he felt his body stirring. It had been a long time for him. Naked showers with two muscular men was just a little much at the moment.

James raised an eyebrow but turned politely around and Q watched with interest from the side if his vision as they shampooed each other’s hair, fingers running through the locks as the suds dripped down over their collarbones and chests. Q gulped as he tried not to stare, getting even more aroused at their familiarity and natural grace. As soon as they were finished he quickly stuck his head under the spray and rinsed off, jumping out of the shower and into his towel as rapidly as possible.

“I’m going to be late for work,” Q called as he skittered out the door and into his bedroom, haphazardly pulling clothes out of his wardrobe and yanking on the first items he saw. When he turned around the two otters were trotting out of the bathroom, shaking the water off their fur and pausing to groom at their sides and bellies. Q had to let out a laugh as James neck stretched too far and he fell over with an annoyed squeak. “Alright, you two. Let’s go.”

He scooped them up and held one under each arm, carrying the wriggling bodies to the car and depositing them on the passenger seat. They stood perched with their front paws against the window, wet noses marking up the glass as they peered outward on the entire drive into town.

 

xxxxxx

 

Bringing the two otters to work had been a complete fiasco.  At first Alec and James had been amusingly cute, waddling over Q’s desk and drawing adoring coos from every single female co-worker in the vicinity.  They had in fact proved useful in Q’s wiring project, carefully holding wires in their small teeth as they scurried through pipework in the ceiling after Q had hoisted them inside.  However, after the evening had crept into morning and Q had stopped for a quick tea break, the two little buggers were suddenly nowhere to be found.  Q searched across the work floor, in his small office, in the ductwork where the two had been running, and in the breakroom with no success.  

He finally returned to his desk, sitting down exasperated as he ran the base of his palm over his face, the tiredness suddenly hitting him full on.  He had a feeling his supervisors wouldn’t be thrilled about two otters running loose in a high-security building, and he would be in even more trouble if it was found out that they were actually men.  A ridiculous amount of trouble, in fact.  Q pushed up his glasses to rub at his eyes, and as he replaced them he heard a tiny scratching noise emanating from somewhere nearby.  He paused curiously, straining to  hear the soft sound.  There it was again, more scratching and then the bottom left drawer of his desk was shaking suddenly, banging loudly against the wooden track.

Q bit back a laugh as he grasped the handle and pulled out the drawer, already knowing what he would see inside.  Alec was lying on his back, attempting to push up at the top of the drawer with his back feet and going limp as the light hit him.  James had his head in Q’s stash of granola, ferreting around and looking upward at Q with a mess of white-brown flakes clinging to his whiskers.  The otter sneezed and Q broke out into full out laughter, wiping at tears as Alec glared at Q with as much ire as his small features could muster.  He scrambled onto his feet and attempted to leap out of the tall drawer, hanging over the edge and unable to pull his large body all the way over.  The otter slid down the wooden side and let out an irritated huff, butting his head against James as Q broke into fresh peals of laughter.

“I can’t believe you got stuck in my desk drawer,” Q chuckled mirthfully, reaching down to pick up Alec and hold him on his lap.  He pulled James out next, brushing away the crumbs as the silver otter reached out his front paw to touch Q’s nose.  “Hungry, eh?”  The otters clambered over each other on Q’s lap, their paws sinking into Q’s trousers and thighs, and fur soft underneath Q’s fingertips.  Alec made a purring noise against Q’s hand and then nipped at the webbing between the fingertips.  “Alright, alright, we can go.”

They stopped at the grocery store on the way home, and Q shook his head as the two otters played in the paper bags in the front seat.  Alec licked and gnawed against the package of salmon, growling and falling off the seat when Q stopped abruptly in his driveway.  They bounded up the front porch, sliding along the slick tiles of Q’s foyer until they’d reached the kitchen.  Q grinned as he fed the two by hand, Alec more enthusiastic at the raw fish than James who Q remembered liked his fish cooked.  The silver otter fell over on his back, revealing his lighter underbelly and Q scratched gently at the fur.

“All healed up, then?” Q said absently, tickling the tiny underarms as James swatted at him.  “Well enough for a bath?”  At the words the two otters perked up immediately, jumping down to the chair and then the floor and trotting over to the bedroom while Q cleaned up their dinner.  By the time Q had made it to the bathroom the two of them were play-wrestling on the floor and making happy chirping noises.  Q turned on the faucet of his antique tub, testing the water before putting in the stopper and depositing first James and then Alec into the bottom.  They splashed happily in the water, taking turns pushing each other under the faucet and happily dancing away.  As it filled up they began to swim, making small rounds of the tub as they paddled before diving underneath the surface when it grew deep enough.

Q stopped the water and rested his chin on the lip of the tub, watching the otters diving and playing happily.  After a few minutes they slowed down, flipping over to rest on their backs and resting idly against each other as they floated across the small space.

“You’re quite cute, you know,” Q mused out loud.  “When you’re not hitting me in the nose or snoring in bed.”  The two sets of small dark eyes studied him with interest and Q reached out to rub the belly of the nearest otter.  A slight rippling of fur was his only warning and then in the place where there was once an otter’s belly was now a very naked and human James.  Q’s fingertips were now brushing along the top of the muscular shoulder and he let them linger there slightly, feeling the warm and wet skin before drawing away with slight embarrassment.

“At least I don’t kick in my sleep, like Alec,” James said with a roguish grin, poking at the russet otter as the critter paddled with his back feet around James’ form.

“I might need a larger bed,” Q said agreeably, squeezing the edge of the tub with his hands to prevent them from wandering over the planes of the beautiful body in front of him.  Instead he let his eyes trail down over James’ neck, sweeping across the flushed pink skin of his chest, and downward to where the hard stomach disappeared beneath the water.

“Oh are we staying, then?” Alec said from Q’s right, naked and grinning, hair wet and slicked back.

Q blushed and stammered, growing bright red as he pulled his hands inward and wiped the water off on his trousers.  “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply…” he trailed off, looking downward.

The back of a wet hand touched Q’s cheek, the warm water sliding downward and dripping onto his collar as Q flushed further.  Q leaned into the touch, looking up through his eyelashes as Alec smiled and drew his thumb across Q’s bottom lip.  “Don’t be silly, love,” Alec said as he moved closer, the water sloshing gently.  “Of course we want to share your bed.”

Q swallowed as he looked at Alec, the larger man’s eyes bright and smiling and flicking down to Q’s lips momentarily before glancing back upward.  Q could see James leaning back against the side of the tub, looking over eagerly.  A second wet hand came up to curl in Q’s hair and tug him into a soft kiss.  Q kept his hands on his trousers awkwardly as the kiss deepened, Alec’s tongue feeling delightful and soft against his as their lips parted.  Alec broke away but still held onto Q gently, their breath and the quiet sounds of water the only noises.  Q blinked and tentatively raised his hands to Alec’s shoulders, tracing along one wicked looking scar before wrapping around the wet chest and pulling him close.  They kissed again, the ceramic of the tub cold between their bodies, and the water seeping into Q’s shirt and rubbing against his skin.

Sloshing noises from behind grew louder and then James was kissing Q’s hands where they rested on Alec’s back.  James’ hands ran along the top of Alec’s shoulders and up the backside of Q’s arms, tickling him slightly.  Q pulled away to see James pressed completely against Alec, kissing at the nape of his neck and biting down on the thick rise of muscles.  Q felt his throat grow completely dry as his body responded, their beauty and familiarity almost overwhelming.

Alec smiled warmly and tilted his head back, letting James mouth along the skin as he kept his eyes trained on Q’s flushed and aroused expression.  “Come on, James.  Let’s get out of the tub.”

The two extricated themselves from each other’s limbs and stood, water dripping off their bodies as Q sat back on his haunches and stared, unable to help himself.  He felt his trousers growing incredibly tight as they stepped out of the tub and onto the tiled floor, dripping and hard and incredibly close.

“Yes, alright.  Good,” Q stammered out, allowing himself to be pulled up by two large hands and walked over to the bedroom.  They peeled off the wet and cool layers of Q’s clothes, licking against the pale skin as each new section was exposed.  Q writhed on the sheets, gooseflesh forming and nipples growing taut as the cool air hit his skin.  He let himself be pressed between the two bodies, their skin warming him and exciting him.  James’ lips were different from Alec’s, fuller, and his tongue heavy and fantastic against Q’s mouth.  Four hands and two tongues were almost overwhelming and Q twitched in their grip, moans captured by James’ mouth as Alec licked hotly against his cock.

Hands against his bollocks, fingertips against his collarbone, and a deep and wet suck from Alec had Q coming with a muted shout, trembling between them.  Alec hummed around him as he swallowed and Q threw his head back against the pillows, James’ tender kisses falling over his neck and shoulders before kissing him behind the ear.  Q’s heart raced and he stared at his ceiling with a bit of disbelief as the two men curled around his body.

“Yes,” Q said, rolling slightly on his side to face James’ clear blue eyes.  James cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly as Alec’s lips dragged along Q’s shoulder-blades.  “Stay.”

James kissed Q warmly in reply.


	19. Dragon!Bond hoards Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragon!Bond hoards Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For runemarks. <3
> 
> This is one of my favorite fills.

The first thing Q became aware of was a throbbing pain at the base of his skull as his eyes opened heavily. The second was that it was dark. So dark that he couldn’t see the outline of his hands or any hints of where he was. And the third thing he noticed was the hard, cold ground that he was lying on, curiously shifting with tiny metallic noises as he fought to pull himself into a seated position.

Distant dripping, a vague echo, and stale air led Q to the deduction that he was in some type of cave, perhaps underground. He felt along his limbs, checking for injuries and feeling his fingers come away from his suddenly throbbing ankle with a bit of blood. He peered down in the darkness but could see nothing and wiped his fingers off on his breeches. The ache in his skull was growing sharper as he became more awake, and Q tried to remember just how he had gotten in this dank place.

He could recall his mother and father arguing as they always did, waiting until he had retired back to his room to begin the shouting. He remembered lying down on his own bed with his pillow over his head. And then… nothing. Q frowned and felt the ground, the shifting metal cold under his fingertips. He dug down with his fingers and picked up a handful of the items, feeling the round circles in his hands and letting them fall down with a ringing clank. Coins. Curious, indeed.

The gravity of the situation began to weigh down and settle heavily in Q’s stomach. Coins, a cave, kidnapped… Q had heard stories, tales told round the fire that everyone laughed off as absurd, of mythical creatures holed up in the mountains. He tried to remember the details. Was there something about a treasure trove? And wings? And eating…. virgins? Q closed his eyes, suddenly remembering the time the girl who worked at the weavers pinned him behind the barn and he couldn’t seal the deal. He felt his throat go dry. If he was going to die a virgin in this godforsaken dark, damp pit…

A bit of morning light was beginning to seep through the darkness, emanating from a distant corner of what Q could now see was a vast cave, dotted with rock formations and a jaw-dropping amount of golden objects strewn about, with a few glittering jewel-tones mixed in like colourful punctuation. It was far more wealth than Q had ever even heard about in the ancient legends. He looked down to see that he was on top the largest heap, his feet slipping over the gold coins as they tumbled down a great distance until they fell from view. Q gulped; he was afraid of heights.

Something that sounded unnervingly like booming footsteps broke through Q’s reverie and he scrambled to his feet, the pounding in his head increasing tenfold. He rubbed at the base of his skull, wincing at the touch along his tender skin. The footsteps began to get closer and Q backed up instinctively over the uneven pile of coins until his bloody heel bumped into something solid and he fell back on his arse. The air knocked out of him with a loud huff and Q felt panic seize his chest as he struggled to draw breath into his lungs, feet sliding as the coins shifted beneath them.

Slowly a large and imposing shape began to materialize before him. The creature was gigantic with four thick legs striding slowly across the golden heaps, and a large triangular head with giant white teeth gleaming dimly. The pointed front fangs were visible, peeking out of the closed jaw, and intelligent and brilliant blue eyes fixed themselves on Q’s quaking figure. The dragon drew closer, Q’s attention moving to the leathery scales as they came into focus, and a long, spiky tail flicking back and forth. The folded wings moved away from the body in a type of shuddering shrug and Q swallowed as that final detail tipped him over into full-blown panic.

“I’ve had a lot of sex,” Q blurted out, cheeks pinking despite his fear.

The dragon paused his advancement, cocking his head to the side to stare at Q’s trembling body intensely. A soft sound that could have been a laugh came from the throat, deep and terrifying. Q took a deep breath and stood tall, summoning as much courage as he could muster.

“Now that’s not true,” the dragon said in a low and clearly amused voice. Q gaped, stepping backwards and feeling his back bumping into a solid cave wall. Another step closer and Q scooted along the rock before stopping in his tracks as the dragon’s laugh emitted a furl of orange fire that warmed the air. The creature reached the top of the treasure pile and reared up on its back legs, towering impressively over Q before reaching down to scoop him between the two front claws.

Q had a moment of terrified fear as he was carried through the air and then set down gently on the floor of the cave. The dragon curled around his body and trapped Q between his front legs, holding the boy tightly. Q struggled between the limbs, the slide of smooth scales strange against his skin and face. The dragon didn’t budge, Q’s movements not even registering as anything but tickling flutters to the large creature.

“Mine,” the deep voice breathed as Q attempted to pry off one large fingernail from where it rested over his stomach. The dragon closed his eyes and stilled and Q pushed and pulled unsuccessfully until he finally gave up and rested his head back against the breathing dark chest. He waited in the dragon’s clutches, watching as the growing light gradually illuminated the slumbering and snoring figure, and wondering if this would be his last sunrise.


	20. High school teachers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school teachers AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For exploding-pens.
> 
> I can confirm that staff meetings are in fact exactly like this.

Q hated staff meetings.  Well, everyone did, of course.  But Q in particular couldn’t stand them.  They were always an utter waste of valuable plan time, and twenty minutes was never enough for the ornery faculty to sufficiently yell at each other over minutiae.  Q sat uncomfortably in the stiff-backed chair, looking at the sad collection of worn dictionaries and overly cheerful motivational posters placed crookedly on the wall.  Principal Mallory was currently showing a YouTube video about ducks flying in formation, following it up with a five minute explanation of a strained metaphor for teamwork.  Q shifted in his chair itching to play with his iPhone but knowing it would be frowned upon.  Instead he doodled on the side of his meeting agenda idly, making lazy swirls that somehow turned into a chemical equation that trailed off the edge of the paper and onto the grey desk before Q even noticed.

Brief movement caused Q to flick his eyes over and he glanced sidelong at the blond man sitting at his right.  Bond was folding his agenda into a paper aeroplane, running his thumb nail along the creases to fold them crisply as his tongue poked out of the side of his mouth with intense concentration.  Q bit back a small laugh at the man’s anticts before schooling his features into a more neutral expression.  Mallory paused momentarily to glance over the room and Q nodded emphatically with whatever point was being made before returning to sketch in the margins of his paper once more.  

Bond finished his plane, turning to regard Q with a small smirk while holding it up as if to threaten him with an airborne missile.  Q raised his eyebrow in challenge, knowing Bond absolutely wouldn’t do it.  Bond made a small motion with his forearm, feigning a toss and smirking before setting down the paper and beckoning Q to pass his agenda over.  He scribbled on it for a moment and silently passed it back to Q, the brunet covering it with his hand quickly before peeking beneath to read the scrawl.

_Lunch?  Your room?_

Q wrote quickly in his flowing cursive before sliding the note back across the aisle.

_Yes.  I have cake._

They smiled at each other before facing forward once more at the noise of a throat clearing.  Mallory’s summation was winding down and the man was beginning to look more and more annoyed at the sound of shifting pencils, corduroy and tweed that whispered through the room as the teachers collectively readied to stand up.  The first bell rang and the light buzzing of conversation ramped up to a loud clamouring as Mallory finally gave up the fight and shut down his projector without another word.

“Half past eleven?” Bond asked, lingering by the chair to wait for Q to collect his satchel and pencils.

“Sounds good,” Q said, smiling shyly upward from beneath his fringe.  It had been their routine for the last week; Q didn’t know why Bond even bothered to ask anymore.  Though he found he didn’t mind the question each day.  They walked through the door together, Q nodding quickly before they turned to go to their separate wings for first period.  Q glanced back to watch Bond leave, his black tracksuit bottoms swishing lightly and drawing his attention to the man’s very toned backside and arse.  The grey tshirt hung loosely over his body, the curve of biceps enticing from beneath the short-sleeves.  Q grinned slightly to himself as he spun around and ran directly into a solid body.

“Oi!” Q muttered as an elbow poked him in the stomach.  He grimaced and was ready to start a scathing rant when he registered who it was he had run smack into.  Q scaled it back to slight ire as he said, “Watch where you’re going there, Eve.”

“You ran into me,” Eve said smiling at Q’s pout and pushing a springy curl of hair back behind her ear.  “Walking this way?”

Q nodded and they set off down the hall, side-stepping students who were attempting to push past them with overly large backpacks and arms overburdened with stacks of books and loose papers.  

“What was that note passing I saw?”  Eve threw him a knowing look, laughing delightedly as she saw Q’s neck flush crimson against his shirt collar.

“Nothing,” Q murmured, glancing around at the students crowding the hallways.

“Mash notes, then?  Poetry?  I didn’t think PE teachers were so creative.”

Q rolled his eyes to hide his embarrassment and hiked his bag up further, turning to avoid a burly looking football player who barreled between the two of them.

“Just lunch plans,” Q said breezily.  Eve sure was nosy.

“If you say so,” she said.  They slowed as they reached the English classrooms and Eve peeled off with a wave, her heels clicking smartly on the linoleum.  “Tell me about it later?”

Q sighed forlornly as he nodded despite his better judgment.  “Fine, fine.”  Eve grinned happily and disappeared into her classroom, the warning bell just ringing.

Q picked up his pace and walked the remaining distance to the science labs which were situated on the furthest side of the building.  Many of his students were already in his room, seated around the black square tables and tinkering with the test tubes he had set up painstakingly that morning.

“Don’t touch those!” he barked, his normally soft voice laced with annoyance.  The student shrunk back in his chair, placing his hands on his lap obediently as Q fixed him with his teacher stare.  Q righted the test tube and walked to the front of the room, picking up the one piece of chalk that hadn’t broken yet.  He wrote in big block letters “POP QUIZ” in the center of the chalkboard and the collective groan from his students caused him to smile with glee.  


	21. Everyone forgets Q's birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone forgets Q's birthday.

Q peered at the ticking hand of his clock, watching the time slide away.  In the still of late evening the second hand was thunderously loud in the near silence of Q-branch.  There.  Half past eight.  He was officially old.

Q lingered at his desk, poring over old reports and new ones, delaying the inevitable lonely evening ahead of him.  He managed to get himself lost in R’s coding project, staring at the screen until he saw white numbers behind his eyes when he blinked.  He hardly noticed when a slim figure in a waistcoat appeared in front of him.

“Go home, Q,” Mallory said, his stern voice softened by his light eyes.  “Don’t you have anything better to be doing?”

Q pressed the enter key and leaned back in his chair, the creak of metal grating.  “No,” he said with a touch of bitter honesty.  His own solitary word stung and Q felt the dark press of depression that he had been warding off begin to descend slowly.

“Go home,” Mallory repeated, crossing his arms and refusing to budge until Q finally moved to shut down his laptop.  The brunet collected his pencils slowly, straightening the papers and shutting the laptop lid before finally standing and meeting Mallory’s unwavering gaze.

“Goodnight, sir,” Q said stiffly.  He walked the entire way home in the bitter cold just to feel the bite against his cheeks.

His flat was cold and dark, and Q didn’t bother to turn the light on.  He headed straight for the liquor cabinet, pulling out his sole bottle of vodka.  Bond had brought it back for him from Poland and Q had thought it was sweet if a bit odd, especially the way Bond waxed poetic about the merits of its potato-base as compared to grain.  It was all a bit beyond Q and he merely noticed the crisp finish and the way it didn’t burn his throat as he had remembered from his uni days.

Q curled in on himself on the couch, holding the glass against his cardigan and looking out at the moon, bright and low in the open window.  The heavy weight pressed down on his shoulders again, his limbs growing leaden, slight moisture pricking at the corner of his eyes as he replayed the abysmal day in his head.

_Don’t cry.  Don’t cry._

Q kicked back the rest of the drink and set the glass down on the table.  Probably not his smartest idea mixing a depressant with his current mood, but he really didn’t care.  He had no one, he was alone, and it was his goddamn birthday.  He hated himself a little as he poured the next drink and lay back against his thick couch cushions, sipping without moving his head at all.  He hated that not a single person had wished him happy birthday and he hated that he was so far estranged from his parents that they didn’t even know what country he lived in anymore. He hated that he had no time for friends or anything even remotely resembling fun.  He hated that Bond only looked at him when he wanted something.  And Q especially hated the way he looked for the blue eyes and annoying smirk each time he heard the insufferable agent was returning to MI6.  Most of all, he hated how much he cared about all of it, Bond and friends and birthday and generally sucky life included.

He downed the vodka with a grimace before removing his glasses and dropping his head in his hands, the tears beginning to gather and fall heavily.  He let them come until they really started to flow, anxiety sweeping over him as he broke into small sobs.  His thin body wracked with each wave until he gradually slowed to just a hiccup, red eyes and a hollow feeling sinking in his chest.  He stared into the glass once more, debating a third or an attempt to crawl into bed; neither seemed appetizing.  He finally mustered the strength to stand and he pulled himself to his feet, exhaustion and the alcohol causing him to waver slightly.  Two drinks wasn’t a lot, but lunch of nutella and tea didn’t help matters.

Loud pounding from the door caused Q to look up suddenly.  His mind flicked to his sidearm, laying on the table in the foyer.  Q creeped silently to the door, avoiding the one floorboard that creaked before peeking through the peephole, hand poised to snatch up the firearm.  The distorted figure of James Bond looked back at him and Q pulled back quickly in surprise, unsure what to think.

The knocking sounded again and Q jumped at the sharp noise.

“Open up, Q,” Bond called loudly.  “I know you’re in there.”

“And how do you know?” Q called back.

“Because you weren’t at Q branch.”

Well, there was truth to that.  Q debated telling Bond to bugger off.  He knew he looked like a complete mess and his nose was probably red from crying.  He didn’t know if he could face Bond’s smug look without his normal armour strapped around him.

More knocking.  “Q.  Please.”

That had Q opening the door slightly, regarding the thin sliver of Bond with caution.

“Can I come in, please?”  Again, he had said please.  Q shook his head lightly at the odd occurance, very confused at Bond’s politeness.  He silently opened the door and stepped backward, letting the man come inside.

“What are you doing here?” Q asked softly, the aching feeling in his heart returning momentarily.  He seldom had visitors.

The man smiled at him warmly, regarding Q momentarily before pulling his hand away from his throat and brushing his thumb underneath Q’s eyes, wiping at the wetness that remained.  He made no comment on Q’s appearance, and for that Q was extremely grateful.

“I brought you something.”  Bond brought his other hand forward, holding out a plain paper bag.

Q looked at it skeptically before meeting Bond’s blue gaze once more.  “Why did you bring me a present?”

“Because I didn’t forget.”

Q reached for the bag and looked inside to see a gigantic cupcake in a plastic container and a package of candles.

“You didn’t forget,” Q said softly.  He looked at Bond, at the short hair and the fine lines and the double windsor knot tied tight.  There was the slightest sense of vulnerability that lurked behind the confident smile, and the ache in Q’s chest eased up slightly.  Q pulled Bond into a wet kiss, the paper bag crinkling next to their ears as his arms wrapped around the man’s neck.

“Happy Birthday, Q,” Bond said into Q’s lips.  Q smiled, tears welling for an entirely different reason.


	22. Red corset and stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q wears a red corset and stockings. Quite explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [wecouldhavebeeninvenice](wecouldhavebeeninvenice.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Please see [this very nsfw post](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com/post/62864581466) for reference. God, do I love [namasteseven](namasteseven.tumblr.com/). Seriously.

Bond loved the feel of soft, trembling things beneath his fingertips.  He loved the feel of raw silk with fine boning and the brush of clean-shaven skin.  And he loved the way Q mewled so prettily and came undone in his hands.  

It had started out that one day that Q wore the black lace knickers beneath his trousers at work.  Bond had fucked Q in his office with a hand clasped over the boffin’s mouth to muffle the moans.  No one had met Bond’s gaze when he’d exited the office some time later, and Q had sat primly at his desk the rest of the day, tugging on his collar to hide the purpling love-bite peeking out while smiling faintly to himself.  Since then, Bond had been to the shop a few times and Q was always very obliging.  They quickly learned that red was Bond’s favourite colour.

Q sat on the bed and pulled on one long crimson stocking over his toes and ankle while Bond sat in the armchair by the window, watching.  His eyes raked over the thin frame, the sharp angles and bright green eyes and messy hair incredibly attractive when framed in blood-red silk.  The corset was low, cinched around Q’s waist tightly, accentuating his slender hips and the long legs spread out luridly beneath.  Two sets of garters hung from the fabric, sliding over Q’s thighs as the man reached down to pull upward on the second stocking.

Q looked up to smile at Bond, the innocence and desire shooting straight to Bond’s cock.  He palmed himself through the fabric of his trousers, watching as Q bit his lip slightly and stood, grasping the left stocking to attach it to the garter as his slender cock dipped forward with gravity.  Bond wanted to look everywhere, at the pink lips, the dark nipples, the flex of muscle in the forearms, and the beautiful silk of the corset.  But Q’s cock and bollocks held his attention, clean-shaven and framed beautifully between the colour and spread legs and just begging for Bond’s tongue.  Q finished attaching the second stocking and stood up straight, hand skimming over the fabric of the corset and skating down, almost touching his hard cock but not quite.

“Come here, love,” Bond said, not recognizing his own voice.  Q walked and it was mesmerizing.  His limbs were fluid and eyes dark, cock bobbing with each step.  He stopped as their knees bumped and Bond felt his pulse skyrocket at the first innocent touch.

“What do you want, James?”

Bond loved when Q called him that.  Not Bond, not agent, not double-oh-seven.  James.  The name rolled off his lover’s tongue in that beautiful posh way that he had.  Bond gripped at the armrests, wanting to touch and take but wanting to be in control of himself more.

“I want to suck you off.  And then I’m going to lick into you.  Taste you.  Fuck you.”

Q groaned and moved his hand down to trail along his cock, reaching the end and forming a fist as he thrust his hips slightly upward.  “James,” he said again, and this time Bond slid down to his knees and pulled Q’s stocking-clad leg over his shoulder to rest the foot on the chair behind him.

Bond pushed his nose against the juncture of Q’s thigh and abdomen, licking down the v of muscle and feeling the silk of the corset against his eyelashes and forehead.  He brushed his lips along Q’s cock, reveling in the jumping of skin and Q’s thighs quivering as his tongue came out with tiny licks.  Q brought his hands into Bond’s short hair, grabbing on and pushing him tighter, willing him to get on with it.

Bond ducked his head lower, running his tongue along the base and down over the bollocks, loving the smooth feel and opening his mouth wide to take one inside.  Q arched his hips forward, closing his eyes as one of Bond’s hands moved from its grip on Q’s thigh to clutch at Q’s cock and pull gently as his tongue worked.  He moved upward with his mouth, leaving trails of wetness up Q’s cock until he reached the head.  Bond pulled back the skin and pointed his tongue to lick around the edges while Q tightened his hold in Bond’s blond hair.

“So beautiful, Q,” Bond said against the underside of the leaking cock before sliding over the tip and sucking gently.  Q began to shake, his precarious position becoming uncomfortable as his body was slowly losing any semblance of balance of control.

“James,” Q said again, and this time it was a plea, a beg, a sob.  Bond responded by sliding one hand beneath Q’s thigh, gripping the man to him tightly as he took him in deeper.  His flattened tongue slid along the underside of Q’s cock until he was bumping the back of his throat.  Q began to thrust lightly and Bond let him, growing still and taking it.  The position was difficult and soon Q was whimpering and pulling his leg back while Bond held him with a firm grip.  He finally pulled off and looked up at Q with spit-slicked red lips and clear eyes, pride welling up as he saw Q’s glazed expression and loosened jaw.

“On the bed,” Bond said softly, letting Q slide his leg from over his shoulder and walk the few steps over to the edge of the bed.  Q sat back, legs falling open and head tilting backward, offering himself up.  Bond rose and stood above Q, running his hand heavily from Q’s neck to his lips and pushing inward, letting Q suck on his fingertips.  His other hand grabbed at Q’s waist, squeezing and moving down to push a thigh outward before grasping at the man’s cock once more.  Q mewled and bucked, and when James pushed in a slicked up finger and pressed inward Q was suddenly coming all over Bond’s hand, the white spurts wetting the rich fabric as Bond held him tightly.

“God you’re beautiful,” Bond whispered, kissing against Q’s neck as the shudders trembled out of Q’s tight body and he moaned kitten-like.  Bond gently pushed Q’s body back onto the bed, spreading the legs and settling between them, tongue darting out to taste the come that had dripped downward.  Q twitched violently, the moans spilling from his lips as Bond’s tongue delved and wriggled, pushing against him.

Q pressed his head back into the pillows, his curls fanning out and cheeks stained a bright pink, breathing raggedly.  As Bond pushed the long legs backwards further the garters stretched and bit into Q’s arse pleasantly.  Bond leaned back to admire his work, looking at the come-soaked fabric and Q’s body loose and pliant beneath him.  He pushed his cock against Q’s arse, sliding and teasing as Q sighed out blissfully.

“Love you, James,” Q said, eyes closed and lips falling open with a loud whimper as Bond pushed inside.


	23. Snow Leopard, Cat & kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is a Snow Leopard, Q is a Cat, and they have a son named Andrew. Sexy times is interrupted by little feet. 
> 
> Based off the sketches of Rerumfragmenta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Rum](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/), whom I <3 to death. Please see her cute sketches that are the basis for this fill.
> 
> [Family Portrait](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/64286943209/scan-that-drawing-of-baby-andrew-right-now)
> 
> [Before dawn he’s your son…](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/64283682066/azinine-ha-risposto-al-tuo-post-i-have-a-free)

James and Q lay perfectly still on the bed, listening to the silence surrounding them.

“Do you think he’s asleep?” Q whispered, dark brown cat-ears flicking forward. They held their breath for a moment, hearing absolutely nothing. James breathed out and shifted closer on the bed, his hand sliding under them hem of Q’s cardigan and running along his waistband.

“Maybe we should wait a minute…” Q said softly, trailing off as James’ lips brushed over the skin of his neck, tickling him.

“You worry too much, love,” James said into the skin, the hand sneaking upward to run along Q’s flat stomach and slide warmly along the skin.

Q closed his eyes and purred slightly, his long tail flicking forwards to rub against James’ calves and curl around the ankle. James responded by moving closer, pressing his front to Q until they were flush against each other.

“Missed you today,” James said into Q’s collarbone, pulling down on the fabric to get more access. Q’s hands searched along James’ back, grasping onto his tshirt and tugging it upward. He drew his leg up , slinging it over James’ hip and pressing their cocks loosely together.

James let out a small growl at the contact, biting against Q’s skin gently before soothing it with a lick. His fluffy spotted tail curled against Q’s intimately, the tips twining together as their lips finally met. James was a fantastic kisser and Q let the older man slide his tongue against his lips before opening up to him, gentle and soft and warm. James’ hand stroked down Q’s back, pausing to rest on his arse and give a squeeze. Q pulled back with a laugh and slapped at the hand.

“I missed you too,” Q said, ducking his head slightly to nuzzle beneath James’ chin, his velvety ears rubbing along James’ lips and day-old stubble. Q pushed his hips forward more, trying to get more friction throughout the layers of fabric.

“Are you going to talk to M about getting out earlier?” James murmured, his voice very close. Q twitched his ears backwards, drawing away slightly.

“James…” Q said with a melancholy note colouring his tone. He flicked his tail away from the grasp James’ had on it, letting it curl upwards and into his own hand. He stroked it as his brow creased and James moved forward to kiss at the fine lines before reaching down to grasp Q’s restless hands.

“I know, Q,” James said simply. Their eyes met, bright blue to warm green, and Q felt guilt flit through him. Balancing work and life was a constant issue between them, and one that Q was drowning in. Q bit his lip and looked downward, staring at James’ lips.

“Can we talk about it later?” Q asked softly, teeth worrying at his lip and returning his hands to James’ bicep. He ran a finger idly along the freckles and soft hair, watching as the skin turned to gooseflesh.

James nodded and tugged Q closer in reply, kissing him fully and hugging him tight against his hard body. They slid against each other, the clothing between them suddenly in the way. James unbuttoned each button of the cardigan slowly, nudging it apart and repeating the process on the dress shirt beneath. When it was open he pushed it off of Q’s shoulder, watching the skin revealed in the warm light of the lamp on the nightstand. Q shrugged out of one arm, smiling shyly as James’ eyes roved over his form.

“So beautiful,” James said, his fingers fitting into the light hollows between Q’s ribs. “Still so beautiful.”

Q lay back against the pillows, letting James move over him and pull the other shoulder off until he was naked from the waist up. The sheets were cool against his back and he pulled James down until he was resting on top of him heavily, pulling his legs up to wrap around James’ waist. They kissed deeply, hips grinding together as their tongues entwined. Q hiked his leg up further to toe against the waistband of James’ pajama bottoms, hooking into them and attempting to slide them down unsuccessfully. James’ spotted tail swished pleasantly against Q’s toes.

Q was too wrapped up in James’ lips and hips and fingertips to even notice the sound of small footsteps and the turning of a doorknob. James had just pulled away and was smiling down at Q’s prone body when they heard a tiny voice from in the doorframe.

“Papa? Daddy?”

They froze, looking over with horror to see their small son blinking at them with mussed hair and wide hazel eyes. Q felt himself turning red from cheeks to toes as James slid off of him quickly and sat on the bed, partially obscuring Q’s half-naked form.

“What are you doing up, Andrew?” James said in a warm tone as Q felt around for his cardigan and yanked it on as quick as possible.

The little boy flicked his tail back and forth, looking from one parent to the next and rubbing at his eye with a tiny fist. “I was thirsty,” he said, oblivious to their discomfort and luckily remaining put.

James glanced back at Q, noting that he was fully clothed and presentable before standing up from the bed. “Let’s go get some water, son,” James said, turning to give Q a small smile and a quick kiss on the lips.

Q was still completely pink and kissed James woodenly, his eyes on Andrew the entire time. James smirked, turning back to herd his son into the hallway. “Papa will come say goodnight after we get your water.” They walked out and closed the door, James shooting one last amused grin at Q’s embarrassed expression.

Q fell back on the bed, raking his hands over his face and pushing back the fringe that had fallen into his eyes. He heard the sound of the faucet and Andrew’s small voice chattering away, not seeming tired in the slightest. Q grinned despite himself, pulling his tired body upward to rummage for his pajamas. Throwing them on he headed out to join his family, smiling in the doorway of Andrew’s room as he saw James kissing their son on the forehead before turning out the light.


	24. Q is sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if James goes into Q branch after long mission to hand in his gear to Q only to see that he isn’t in and hadn’t been for a day or two. Once breaking into the young mans flat he finds out the poor guy is sick…. fluff ensues XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely [tepid-tea](http://tepid-tea.tumblr.com/).

“Where’s Q?” were the first words out of Bond’s mouth.  The startled technician opened her mouth, freezing at Bond’s piercing gaze.

“Oh, he’s… he’s not here,” she stammered out.  Q had left explicit instructions on how to deal with the double-ohs and Bond in particular.  She was to get his equipment, catalogue it, and usher him out the door without revealing any information about Q at all.

“That’s not answering my question,” Bond said with a frustrated huff.  He pulled his sidearm out from its holster and placed it on the table.  “I need to speak with him about a weapons malfunction immediately.”

The tech reached for the gun, sliding it across the table without meeting the agent’s eyes.

“I’ll go wait in his office, then, if you would be so kind to tell him I’m waiting,” Bond said, taking a step past the girl as she turned to let him pass.

“He’s not in today,” she said, wincing slightly as Bond turned around fully and crowded into her space.

“Where is he?’ Bond asked one more time, growing tired of the questioning routine.

“He asked me not to tell you.”  

Bond felt anger flare up at the statement.  Q had asked specifically for him not to know.  He turned his stormy expression on the girl, watching as she moved backwards and bumped against the desk.

“Fine,” Bond said finally, smacking his pristine radio down on the metal table before turning on his heel to walk out of Q-branch with heavy footfalls.  He knew a few places where Q might be.  And if the man was avoiding him…. Bond knew that logic would tell him he should leave him alone, but anger got the best of him as usual.

He showed up at Q’s flat, banging on the door loudly even though it was half past two in the morning.  A yowling cat from within could be heard, a loud crash and even louder cursing, and suddenly Q was yanking open the door.  It stopped abruptly, caught by the chain and revealing a sliver of Q’s half-sleepy and half-angry countenance.

“What the fuck, Bond?” Q asked, glaring from behind his glasses.  Bond couldn’t see much, but he could definitely see Q’s irritated expression and bright red nose.  The man sniffed and then sneezed violently into his sleeve as Bond recoiled slightly.

Q shut the door and Bond thought briefly that that was all he was getting, and he thoroughly deserved it.  But scratching metal was heard and Q was opening the door more fully, still hiding partially behind the large panels.

“What are you doing here?” Q asked, more drained now.  Bond shifted awkwardly on his feet, suddenly feeling ridiculous for his outburst of irrational anger and his pounding on the door.

“You weren’t at Q-branch.”

“And?”

“Your bloody minion said…”

“What did she say?” Q was drawing himself up now, in full Quartermaster mode.

“Pretty much nothing but I think I terrified the shit out of her.”

Q rolled his eyes and opened the door further.  “When are you going to learn to play nice, 007?”

Bond grinned sheepishly as Q gave a jerking motion with his head, indicating that Bond should come in.  “Well make yourself useful if you’re just going to hang around on my doorstep all night.”

Bond had only been in Q’s flat one other time, involving a knife wound and several stitches.  Q had kissed against Bond’s shoulder when finished and they had never spoke of it again.  The place was exactly as Bond had remembered it, disheveled, cluttered, and cozy.

Q flopped down on the couch, throwing his arm over his eyes and then quickly turning his head to sneeze loudly into his sleeve.

“You’re sick,” Bond said, making his way to the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes,” Q said dryly.  After a few minutes and some searching through the cupboards, Bond came over to the couch and set a steaming mug on the coffee table in front of Q.  He glanced around and then pulled a blanket from the armchair, draping it over Q’s legs while the man stared at him like he was an alien.

“Something wrong?” Bond asked, sitting down near Q’s feet and resting his hands on his thighs, unsure if Q would welcome his touch even though he desperately wanted to pull the feet onto his lap.

“Just…” Q said, looking at Bond curiously before reaching over to grab at the mug without looking.  “Just wondering.”

“What I’m doing here?”

Q nodded and took a sip, the water hot against his tongue.  He made a face and held the mug to his chest with both hands, feeling the warmth radiating through his skin.  Bond reflected for a moment, surprised that he didn’t immediately know the answer to his own question.

“You’re just always there, Q.” Bond looked down at his own hands as he added: “For me.”

Q sipped at his tea thoughtfully before setting it down and leaning back against the throw pillow.  Bond glanced over to see Q’s eyes closed, his dark lashes prominent against the brilliantly pale skin, breathing slightly laboured due to the stuffy nose.  The man’s toes were peeking out from the blanket, brushing very slightly against Bond’s suit trousers.

Soon Q was snoring softly and Bond bit back a genuine smile, tugging the blanket over the younger man’s feet and tucking it beneath his shoulders.  He paused as he hovered close by Q’s face, looking at the tip of the nose, the parted lips, the little mole on his cheek, and letting his expression fall unguarded.  Q, with his red nose and sharp snores, and beautiful eyelashes.  Q who was ridiculously intelligent and sharp-tongued and constantly berating him.  Q who looked at him with beautifully soft green eyes when he thought Bond wasn’t looking.  Bond settled back on the couch, letting the feet tuck under his legs as Q tried to warm his toes in his sleep.  The blond closed his eyes, thinking how odd it was that here in this flat, in the dark, with cold toes pressing against him, that he finally felt like he was home.


	25. GoldenEye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for this prompt:  
> so, I got a dark JAQ prompt for you, based on the GoldenEye ending. With Q Alec actually got a competent computer whiz to control the satelite and while Bond might have tried to destroy the big dish Alec managed to catch him. Now he has James as a prisoner, the cash that Q helped him steal from the Brits, a hot computer genius who makes sure no one finds them. What he does next is up to you :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For entanglewood.

Bond shifted his shoulders, testing the strength of his makeshift restraints and eyeing the armed mercenaries surrounding him in the small control room. Alec stood in front of him, his lips drawn into a goading sneer that pulled at his scarred cheeks unattractively. His hair was shorter than Bond remembered, but his green eyes were just as vivid, just as full of ambition and barely hidden violence.

“So glad you’re here to see this, James,” Alec said, nodding to the bank of computers in front of him. “See my great success.”

Bond took his time looking over the computer screens, watching the blinking of a white blip slowly beginning to alter its course, feeling smugness settling in his chest as Alec preened, unknowing.

“Interesting set-up here, Alec. You break into the bank of England via computer then transfer the money electronically. Just seconds before you set off the GoldenEye which erases any record of the transactions. Ingenious.”

“Why thank you, James. I knew you would appreciate a well-executed plan.”

“Still boils down to petty theft.”

Alec snorted, drawing his gun and laying it down on the computer console before pulling out a chair and sitting down. He looked over at the dark haired man monitoring the computer screen next to him with a creased brow and youthful set to his shoulders. The man pecked at the keys before turning partially to face Alec with a small frown. He leaned close to whisper into Alec’s ear and Bond noticed the delicate arch to the man’s back and the way the long dark hair curled against the pale nape, feeling a slight spark of interest at their apparent intimacy.

Alec sat back in his chair, turning to regard Bond once more. “This is Q. Certified genius. Mewls like a kitten in the sheets.”

The back of Q’s neck flushed attractively before he turned around fluidly in his chair, crossing his arms and revealing an expression matching that of Alec’s pleased demeanor painted across his boyish features. “You’re Bond, then? I thought you’d be… younger.”

Bond let out a surprised huff, ending with a choked off laugh. “How old is he, Alec? 22?”

Alec smirked. “Why? Are you jealous?”

A loud beeping noise interrupted the banter, and Q’s head snapped to the computer display.

“He changed the access codes,” Q murmured, pushing his glasses up on his nose and throwing the chair into a hasty spin to type furiously at the keyboard. Alec stood up quickly behind Q, peering over his shoulder before turning back around to fix Bond with a steely glare. He reached for his gun, sliding off the safety and pointing it straight at his old friend’s forehead.

“Well, James. This changes things.”

Bond looked down the barrel and straight into Alec’s eyes. “I warned you, Alec.”

Q was clacking away with gusto, nearly bouncing off his seat as he barked out confidently to Alec, “I can do it. I can break the codes. One minute.”

Alec set his lips in a thin line, keeping his gun trained on Bond while Q continued to type rapidly, fingers flying. Seconds later he crowed triumphantly, hitting the enter key with a flourish and standing up so quickly the chair swiveled backward and into Bond’s legs. “Got it.” The irritatingly loud warning bells abruptly ceased, and Q and Alec shared a dark grin before looking over at Bond’s grey and frozen expression.

“Doesn’t feel so good to lose, does it, James?” Alec said with a small laugh, lowering the gun carefully and shifting into a more relaxed posture.

Bond looked at him stonily, remaining silent, cogs turning as he tried to salvage the situation. He knew there was little else he could do outnumbered, bound, and out of time but he shifted on his feet anyway, looking for a weakness in the guards that he could exploit. If he could just get his hands on the computer… or maybe grab Q as a hostage…

“Don’t worry. There’s a pleasant little cell waiting for you down the way. I’ll send Q after you in a little bit to extract all your secrets and gloat attractively.”

A nod from Alec and the burly men grasping Bond’s arms hauled him away bodily before he could make a move, flanked by several other heavily armed goons. Bond furrowed his brow, anger coursing through him hotly. As he was pushed from the room he saw Alec reaching to grab Q’s pert arse and squeeze, not even bothering to be discreet. The smaller man jumped but turned into him to press the outside of their thighs together, looking upward through his glasses and dark fringe as Alec leaned down to kiss him roughly.

A push from the man at his back and Bond was stumbling out of the room and down metal stairs. He was shoved unceremoniously into a cell with what he quickly discovered was exceedingly effective electronic security. Q was a beautifully powerful and dangerous ally, Bond had to admit. He sat there with a sour taste in his mouth, listening to the noise of boots reverberating on metal, the beeping of computers signaling the successful launch of the satellite, and Alec’s satisfied laugh ringing down the corridor.


	26. Bond's glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q doesn’t realize he has a glasses kink until James has to wear some fake ones for an op. James, of course, notices and takes judicious pleasure in exploiting it.

The glasses were rounded and a light shade of mahogany, a tiny camera fitted on the right side. Q handed them carefully to Bond, the look in his eyes enough to relay the endless ‘Please be careful with my tech for the love of all things holy’ that Q was frankly getting sick of spouting off. Bond never listened anyways.

 

When Bond put them on and looked through the lenses, Q had to stop and blink for a moment. They didn’t quite age Bond but gave him an air of distinguished intelligence. And when he put the pen in his mouth and looked up at Q from his seat on the metal console table, Q felt his heartbeat quicken slightly. The eyes that were normally so electrically blue were framed perfectly, their colour brought out by the bright blue of Bond’s jumper peeking out from beneath a tweed jacket.

 

“Right so… Let’s test the camera, shall we?” Q said softly, reaching to grab at his tablet without really looking. His fingers bumped into his tea mug and he scrambled to clutch at it quickly, eager to avoid a spill on his keyboard. He took a sip to soothe his nerves, his eyes meeting Bond’s amused gaze over the lip of the cup. The man smirked infuriatingly and Q swallowed down the hot liquid, feeling it burn but hiding the grimace.

 

Deft fingers pulled up the programme and instantly Q could see his own face on the screen, grainy and pixelated but clear enough to recognize the slight blush highlighting his cheeks.

 

“Turn around, please,” Q said and Bond’s delighted look at the double-entendre made Q narrow his eyes and let out a theatrical huff. “Now, please.”

 

“As you wish, Quartermaster,” Bond said softly, the smirk curving up into an almost-smile as he followed the instruction.

 

Q kept his eyes on the screen, watching as Q-branch panned across slowly. Bond completed the circle before turning to fix his eyes on Q’s carefully schooled face once more, flicking downward briefly at the set line of Q’s lips and nervous tap of his fingertips before returning to his eyes.

 

“Are you quite finished?” Q said curtly at the little examination, cocking his head slightly and crossing his arms over his cardigan.

 

Bond smiled fully at that, eyes crinkling up behind the frames and one hand coming up to smooth over the lapels of his jacket. “No.” His clear eyes trailed unhurriedly down to Q’s lips and Q opened his mouth to speak but had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say. “Are you alright, Q?” Bond took one step closer and Q felt his heartbeat hitch up further and the hot flush begin to creep from his cheeks down to his neck and chest.

 

He knew. The bastard knew. Q swallowed thickly, clutching the mug to his chest to keep something in between the two of them.

 

“Yes, I’m fine, agent,” Q said briskly, clinging to formality. “You’d best be on your way before you’re late.” He tried to force an authoritative note to his voice but he knew it didn’t pass muster as Bond’s little satisfied smirk appeared once more.

 

“Right,” Bond said, gathering the other equipment Q had outfitted him with, but keeping on the glasses. “It’ll be you, right?”

 

“What?” Q asked quickly, grasping on to the mug’s handle a little tighter.

“You in my ear? Last time went poorly without you.” He looked at Q intensely and Q felt his already quick-beating heart jump into his chest.

 

“Yes. It will be me.”

Bond’s brief moment of actual emotion was erased quickly as the corner of his lip curved upward once more.

“Good.” He took off the glasses and tucked them in his pocket, completing his bookish look. “Well then.”

“Well then,” Q repeated, blinking from behind his own lenses, a bit off-kilter from the entire encounter. “Good luck.”

Bond nodded and turned to leave, and Q watched him the entire way before returning to stare blankly at the tablet’s screen for a full minute before he finally got his wits together to resume typing once more.


	27. Rough sex/kink negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt: Just in case you’re still taking prompts and as I love your fics: Could you do a rough sex 00Q one? Like, Q loves having rough sex and feeling his partner’s strenght, feeling the traces days later still. Bond loves it too, being thrilled that Q seems so vulnarable, that he could break him in too, and yet he never will. JUst something about their common craving and lust? Sorry! And thank you!

The fingers were tight, so tight, squeezing along Q’s wrists, holding them high above his head and pinned to the sheets. Bond licked hotly along Q’s neck, teeth sharp and sliding over the thin skin, incisors biting into one thick tendon as Q threw his head back. He bit down and Q groaned out, low and heavy, lower body fighting between stiffening tightly and bucking upward into Bond’s clothed form.

“Jesus,” Q groaned as Bond pressed his hips forward sharply and dug in his thumbs. “Your fingers.”

Bond bit down on the juncture of shoulder and neck, tasting the salty tang of sweat. His fingers tightened further, feeling the delicate squeeze of fine bones as Q writhed beneath him.

“Too tight?” Bond said into the skin between licks, pulling back to look at the trail of bites on the flushed and marked skin.

Q shook his head vehemently, letting it rub into the pillow. “No. Just. Do what you want. Please. Don’t ask.”

Bond moved Q’s small wrists into one of his own larger hands and sat up, pulling him forward until he was seated in front of him. The blond looked at Q’s sweat-damped fringe sticking to his forehead, glasses slightly askew and glazed-over look on his youthful face. He looked positively sinful, lips kiss-swollen and dark red. Bond had done this many times, held Q close and trembling, sometimes rough, sometimes soft, and it never got old. Never, ever.

He looked at Q seriously, his free hand running along the younger man’s cheek and over his lips, dipping inside and letting Q lick at just the tips of them. “I trust you. Do you trust me?”

Q nodded, green eyes wide and bright, sucking on the pads of the fingertips as Bond pushed them in further. “Yes,” he said around them.

“And you’ll safeword if you even feel a hint of something wrong?” He pulled the fingers out wetly and ran his thumb over Q’s plump bottom lip.

“Yes, James,” Q said earnestly. “Microsoft Vista.”

Bond smiled ruefully at the words that he knew Q hated. And would never ever utter normally. He shifted, suddenly drawing inward, the smile sliding away as he looked over at Q’s wrists trapped in his hand and utterly slim frame folded naked in front of him. The mood immediately shifted and Q breathed in deeply, body becoming pliant, soft.

Bond pushed back on Q’s shoulders forcefully, letting go of the wrists and watching as Q fell backwards, black hair fanning outward. Bond pulled off the dark-rimmed glasses and set them carefully on the nightstand before fixing Q with a positively feral look. He grabbed Q roughly by the ankles and pulled him downward, spreading his legs and pinning the ankles to the bed momentarily as Q let out a surprised grunt.

Their lips crashed together and Bond was pressing him down into the bed, gripping at the wavy locks and kissing with sharp, nipping teeth. The fabric of his jeans were rubbing against Q’s skin and Q shifted up into it, letting it drag over him harshly, lighting him on fire. He clutched at the jeans, scrambling to slide his hand into the waistband and tug at Bond’s cock, trying to reach the button as the man kissed him fiercely and held him pinned tightly down. Q finally managed, yanking them downward and making grasping tugs as Bond growled into his lips.

Bond released Q’s hair to fumble for the lube, coating his fingers and sliding one in steadily without stopping as Q mewled out, adding another, stretching, scissoring, working quickly. Then suddenly his cock was right there, pushing in, and it burned, burned but Q loved it, relished it, begged for it.

“Mine,” Bond said, biting down hard on the shoulder as Q scratched along his back with sharp claws. The nails dug in to the trembling muscles and Bond bit down harder, the skin bending beneath his teeth, not quite breaking but almost there.

The orgasm throttled upward between them and when Q cried out and threw his head back, spilling hotly onto their stomachs and squeezing Bond mercilessly, it was too much. Bond held Q down and hammered home, pounding and pounding until his blood boiled and he was coming with white-hot light behind his eyelids. Q writhing between the iron-clad grip of his fingers was lovely and intoxicating as Bond shuddered through the waves until he lay boneless and heavy on top of Q’s form.

Each deep breath drew them back, calmed them, warmed them as their bodies cooled. Bond pulled himself up to rest on his forearms, looking down at Q’s pink face, wet lashes and small smile. He kissed gently at the side of Q’s lips, easing out as they both groaned in tandem before Bond fell onto the sheets and drew Q onto his chest.

Bond ran his fingers idly over each of Q’s ribs and then over the small bones of the wrist, tracing the jutting part where it met the edge of his delicate hand. The skin was an angry red and twitched slightly as the calloused pads traced over each dark line tenderly.

“Alright, Q?” Bond said into Q’s hair, kissing the top of the mess as Q cuddled closer.

“Quite.”

Bond could feel the lashes fluttering against his chest and he held Q pressed tightly to him the entire night, the possessive feeling curling outward. He wrapped the sentiment tight around them like a blanket, unable to fall asleep but watching Q breathe in and out, gentle and content.


	28. Bunny Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q wears a bunny tail plug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Salios.

Sleepy morning sex with Q was always fantastic, and James smiled lazily at the sight of Q rolling around on the sheets with messy bed head and only a grey tshirt covering his thin frame. The pink lips and blissed out grin did strange things to James’ gut and he couldn’t resist pushing Q up against the headboard and spreading the long legs. He pulled up on the hem of the tshirt until Q was bare-bottomed and red-faced and spluttering vulgar little curses that he thought James couldn’t hear. James held onto Q’s slender hips firmly with his left hand while the right wandered over the spent cock and the come seeping out from between his spread thighs.

“Naughty boy,” James breathed into the damp hair at Q’s neck and Q bent his head forward to press it against the cool paint of the wall. The fingers pried Q open, pressing inward along the sensitive walls, crooking in a circle while Q cried out from overstimulation and his body drew taut. The fingers disappeared and something much more substantial and cold was pushed over Q’s bollocks and between his cheeks, the fresh come collecting over the rounded glass end of a plug that was pushed against him thickly.

Q mewled, his flush deepening as he spread his legs further and arched backward. The plug pushed against him, the inner skin resisting the pressure until James increased the press and it slid in with a quick jerk. Q groaned as its thickness spread him wide, sealing James’ come inside of him. He burned all over with the knowledge. Secondary was the little flutters of fluff that tickled against the back of his arse. He knew exactly which toy James had chosen.

James sat back on his heels, surveying his work. Q was spread out and limp, the rounded white tail resting pertly against his arse, head bent forward.

“Come here, Q,” James said firmly, and Q shuffled sideways and crawled artlessly across the mattress until he was resting in front of the older man’s knees. James smiled at him, looking at the mess of dark hair, the darting green eyes, and the beautiful red lips. He ran his fingertips along them, smudging against the bottom lip and tugging it open as he leaned forward to slide his tongue along the very edges. Then he reached down and tugged forward on Q’s knees, pulling him open and over his lap until Q was straddling him, stomachs pressed together and bunny tail brushing against the tops of James’ legs.

“Little pet,” James purred into Q’s neck, sweeping his hands along the long back and brushing against the soft fur of the plug as Q twitched against him. “Will you be my little pet all day? Wear this for me?”

Q bit his lip and strained forward, body heating as his cock twitched with interest but it was too soon for him to do anything but moan quietly. “Bastard,” Q bit out as James played with the plug, pushing it in further as gravity tugged against Q gently.

“I want you to think of me every time you sit on that bony little arse. Think about me stroking you, filling you up, marking you. I want you hard in your pants all day. Just for me, love. Can you do that for me?” James’ hands trailed all over Q’s now-trembling limbs, kissing at his earlobe and sucking it between his teeth delicately.

Q’s cock found a hidden reserve of strength and began to harden against the tightening muscles of James’ stomach. James shifted Q on his thighs, jostling the plug with the movement and causing Q to scrunch his eyes closed and pitch a high whine.

“Q?” James asked again, pausing his hands until the younger man finally opened his eyes and fought to refocus them before fixing James with an irritated glare.

“Yes,” Q said in his breathless, soft way, and it made James’ heart stir with possessive fervor as he warmed Q’s skin with his palms before dragging them both to stand. He spooned a reluctant and whining Q into his pants and wool trousers, the outline of the little tail just barely visible to James’ eye only because he knew where to look. Then he sent Q on his way with a playful smack on the arse and a kiss to his temple, smiling at the consternation written across the Quartermaster’s brows and the way he tripped over his feet slightly on his way out the door. 

Sitting in a hard seat all day was decidedly uncomfortable, each twist of Q’s hips pushing on the round little bunny tail seated snugly in his arse. He sweated through work, achingly hard as promised, hidden behind his desk until James strolled in at precisely half past five. Q’s look was beyond murderous and James grinned fully as he turned to lock the door of the office with a solid click and stalked forward to sit on the desk, pulling Q on top of him and kissing him fully while Q whined and rutted against him.


	29. Bottom!Bond in lavender lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Rum, based off her beautiful [00Q lingerie art](http://rerumfragmenta.tumblr.com/post/67135143199/our-bbys-in-lingerie).

Exhaustion hung over Q’s body heavily, his feet feeling leaden as he trudged up the stairs. He fumbled arounding in the deep pockets of his anorak, feeling for the ring of keys.  _Front pocket? No. Side pocket? No. Interior pocket? No._ He cursed internally, so tired he couldn’t even remember if he had even locked the door when he’d left an entire day earlier. He made it up to the large wooden monstrosity, leaning his head against the dark panels and closing his eyes momentarily before regaining the strength to push himself up. He spent a long minute searching in the bottom of his bag before finally brushing against the metal with his fingertips.

He heaved a long sigh and turned the key in the lock, throwing his entire body against the door in order to get it opened. Why James insisted they used reinforced steel was beyond him. The building was secure. His surveillance was good. James just worried too much. A yawn rumbled through him and he put the back of his hand to his mouth before rubbing at his red-rimmed eyes as he stumbled over the slightly raised threshold. All he wanted was to fall into bed, smother himself with a pillow and turn off his mobile so no one could ever ask him for help ever again.

Q was still rubbing at his eyes when he crossed into the living room. He stopped short, hands freezing as his sleep-addled brain processed the unexpected sight in front of him. James was lying on the rough carpet of the floor, naked except for a shocking pair of lavender stockings ending in garters stretched tightly down his athletic thighs. Q’s eyes swept upward incredulously, tracing the garters to an equally surprising pair of frilly lace knickers in the same soft lavender. The fabric was sheer and tight, drawn up deliciously over the muscular body with the tip of James’ stiff and flushed cock peeking out over the top. James had one hand drawn up behind his head, revealing the toned planes of his chest and abdomen, stretching his body beautifully, the hard meeting soft in a way that sent a light shudder down Q’s spine. Q’s eyes finally trailed to the swallowing throat and strong chin before finally noticing the way James looked at him with a completely shit-eating grin, blue eyes lit with mischievous mirth.

“Welcome home, darling,” James said and Q immediately narrowed his eyes in irritation. James spent half his time trying to get a rise out of him, and most time Q let it pass with merely a raise of an eyebrow or a flippant barb. In truth he kind of liked the efforts, though he would never ever admit that to James. But in his tired state he frankly wasn’t in any mood for Bond’s irritating shit. He sat down quickly on the armchair, James spread out attractively right in front of his feet.

“Well, go on then,” Q said with a slight tip of his head, crossing his legs and putting his hands into the long pockets of his anorak. He looked down imperiously at James, smiling only slightly when James’ full-out grin slid down into a naughty smirk. James let his free hand drift lower, over his neck, his dark nipples, the trail of hair leading straight downward. He avoided his cock, trailing his fingers over the sheer of the lace, down over his bollocks, bucking up with a groan into his own fingertips.

“I was waiting for you,” James said, his tone now breathy and soft.

Q shifted in his seat and recrossed his legs, hands clenching out of view in his pockets. “I can see that.” He kept his voice completely even, unaffected, just to irritate James. He watched with rapt attention as James slid one hand over the garter, tracing from where the stocking cut across his thigh up to the lace pants, sliding inward until he was running his finger thickly up the underside of his cock.

“Did you touch yourself before I came home?” Q asked suddenly. His tired brain was beginning to churn with ideas, waking up slowly the more he watched the flesh flushing before his feet.

“No,” James bit out as he wrapped his fingers lightly around himself, groaning at the sensation that shot through him at the contact and Q’s eyes hotly running over his body.

“Good.”

“What do you want me to do, Q?” James looked at him with softened eyes, hand pausing in its tugs.

“Slow strokes, James. Make it last.”

James grunted and obliged, his hand tightening, the fabric stretching with each small thrust. Q watched as James worked himself, his body tightening and flexing at Q’s command. Q toed off his shoes but made no other movements, enjoying the momentary burn of pleasure of just watching Bond spread out, flushed, cock hard, breath panting, just for him.

Then, suddenly: “No. Stop.”

James bit out a small growl but cut it off as Q fixed him with a sharp glare.

“Hands behind your knees. Draw your legs back.”

James obeyed immediately, the lavender stretching up the back of his thighs and the garters biting into his skin sharply. His cock was pinned to his stomach, leaking wetly, the fabric growing a deeper color purple as the pre-come seeped through the material.

Q slowly raised himself from the chair, shucking off the coat and kneeling down in front of James drawn-back legs. He traced a finger up one garter and then the other, hiding his enjoyment at the way the muscles quivered and James closed his eyes tightly and parted his pink lips. Q sucked quickly on his fingers before sliding the pants to the side and rubbing them in languid circles against the tight opening of James, grinning at the flinch of surprise.

“Hold still for me, love,” Q intoned softly, sinking in a finger without pretense. James stiffened beneath him, holding his breath as it slid inward, not quite enough to be satisfying, but just enough to tease.

“That was very naughty of you,” Q continued, the finger working inward, joined quickly by another. “Waiting here for me. Hoping I would fuck you when I came home. Weren’t you, love?”

Q crooked his finger and James nodded, eyes flying open as he looked upward with wet eyelashes.

“Please,” he said, need dripping through his tone.

It shot straight through Q and he fumbled with the lube James had thoughtfully put on the coffee table, tugging his own cock out quickly and slicking it with several short strokes. Then he was leaning over James, fully clothed, suit coat brushing over James’ legs as he bent them backwards and lined up. He sunk inward into the tightness, drawing James’ legs over his shoulders and rubbing his cheek against the fishnet of the stocking.

Q pushed in until he was seated fully, the lace of the pants rubbing against his bollocks roughly. He kissed along the shin as James trembled beneath him, head falling back to bare his neck.

“You’re gorgeous, James,” Q said as he began to thrust in tiny, sharp movements. James mewled beneath him, hands behind his knees and tongue swiping over his lips. Q moved slowly, languidly, fingertips exploring every bit of lace and ruffle and skin presented to him. “Fucking gorgeous.”

James bucked upwards in reply.


	30. Penetration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond gives Q a birthday spanking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Spanking, age play (just play), daddy kink.

“Come here, birthday boy.” Bond sits on the loveseat serenely, suit crisp and one leg crossed over the other at the knee. Q glances to the man’s hands, seeing them curled around the polished wooden handle of the hairbrush with an air of authority. His stomach clenches; Bond has strong hands and will be relentless. The thought has his heart hammering against his ribcage and his palms sweating slickly against his wool trousers.

Bond uncrosses his leg and settles his foot down, his feet bare and toes digging into the carpet. His fingers run along the stiff bristles of the brush and Q stares at the scene in front of him as if he’s viewing it from outside the window looking in. His feet feel leaden, his arms heavy as he makes his way with one slow step at a time until he is in front of Bond and looking downward at the man with a nervous bite to his lips. Bond reaches out and curls his fingers over Q’s wrist, the thumb rubbing along the tender skin and bony knob at the base. He tugs swiftly and Q loses his footing and tumbles down in a heap over Bond’s lap without much ceremony. He squirms his body along Bond’s thick thighs, letting out a small grunt as his already hard cock rubs against the sturdy muscles.

Bond is silent as he reaches below Q to unbuckle the belt and pull the leather through the loop with a soft, whispering slide. He sets the brush on Q’s back and slides his fingertips into the waistband, letting his fingers warm on Q’s already heated back before tugging down on the trousers and pants. The fabric catches on Q’s cock and Bond pulls it down until Q’s arse is just exposed and no further. Q pushes his head into the arm of the loveseat, hiding his flushed cheeks and bitten lips. The cotton of his pants is still bunched on the head of his cock, growing steadily wetter as Q leaks out a copious amount of pre-come without anything more than the touch of air on his arse and the rub of Bond’s thighs.

“You know I’m not a boy, Bond,’ Q says in a voice that aims to be nonchalant but ends up coming across as pained. As Bond’s fingers slide between the cheeks of Q’s arse, Q’s voice trails off into an embarrassed whine.

“It is your birthday, though,” Bond says, his fingers moving lower, pulling Q apart. Q shifts on the thighs, unable to do much due to the trousers and pants trapping his movement. “How many spanks?”

Q closes his eyes and debates telling the truth or playing the game. He says what he thinks Bond wants to hear. “Twenty-one.” Q feels the slight hitching of breath as Bond stills beneath him, and it makes Q smile with satisfaction at making the right choice.

“Count them out,” Bond says evenly, and then immediately brings the brush down on the bare skin with a firm sounding smack before Q can even draw a breath.

Q cries out at the impact and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “One,” he says into the arm after a moment. The second spank stings considerably more. The third is the worst. By the time he gets to ten Q is sobbing, but the pain doesn’t increase- it just remains constant and sharp.

Bond pauses to press the brush against the stinging skin and Q draws his body upward, his muscles quivering, his dick throbbing wetly in his pants.

“Halfway there, love. You alright?”

Q nods weakly, eyes still pressed tightly, lashes wet against his beet-red cheeks. “Yes. Green.”

Bond straightens and cracks down the brush again. “What’s the count?”

“Twelve,” Q whispers. Q’s arse is heated, each spank electric on his skin, his body completely rigid under the onslaught. He counts each spank out with a broken voice, and Bond doesn’t even have to put much force into it for Q to be crying out brokenly.

“Please,” he begins to beg in between each blow, and he’s not sure if he’s asking for Bond to go on or to stop, or to just fuck him right then. There is only the paddle and Bond’s thighs, and the incredible sting of flesh.

Finally, finally, they get to twenty-one and Q is supremely grateful he didn’t say his real age. Bond sets down the brush and runs one finger over the bright red marks causing Q to shudder violently. The fingers search lower, brushing against the tight bollocks, tugging on them as Q moans out. “Were you a good boy, Q? Do you deserve it?” His fingers trail back upward, the thumb circling around Q’s clenched hole as Q shakes around him.

“Yes,” Q says between gritted teeth. “Yes, please. Please, Daddy.”

Bond pauses and Q freezes, wondering if he overstepped. He cracks his eyes open and sees Bond looking at him darkly, something predatory having shifted internally and the blue eyes a bit flatter in colour. The thumb begins circling again, pushing against him dryly, the other hand coming to rest on the back of Q’s neck, just sitting there, reminding Q of his strength, reminding him who he belongs to.

“Tell Daddy what you want.”

Q feels his cock squeeze out a little more liquid, his pants absolutely soaked. He’s sure he’s leaked onto Bond’s bespoke trousers and wonders if he’ll get spanked again for that later.

“I want… to come,” Q finally gets out. The fingers leave and instead are replaced with the smooth, rounded handle of the hairbrush. It slides wetly between Q’s cheeks, slick with lubricant, pressing with firm pressure until he’s breached. Q squirms in Bond’s grip, struggling to part his legs further, the handle slipping all the way inward quickly. It isn’t too wide but the polished wood is firm and unyielding, and the expert work of Bond’s hand has it scraping over his prostate with laser precision.

Q is so keyed up that it only takes a few firm strokes and he is rocketing through a rough orgasm that seems to last forever. He spills warmly into his pants, Bond riding him firmly with the handle through each shuddering spasm as he grasps for something to hold onto with his hands. Q’s keening cries are loud and he bites down on his tongue in embarrassment mixed with white-hot, dirty pleasure.

The brush is pulled out and Q moans breathily, spent and boneless over Bond’s lap. A fingernail scraped along the red welts of Q’s arse has him crying out anew, arse flexing, pants uncomfortably wet and cold.

“You’re so gorgeous, love,” Bond says as he pulls Q up onto shaky legs. Q looks down at him with glazed green eyes the colour of deep mint and face flushed red as sin. He looks so ridiculously young and well used with his long shirt hanging crumpled and his pants a soaked mess. Bond smiles at him and stands, drawing Q into a long, lingering kiss- the first of the night. “You did so good.”

Q smiles weakly and kisses back before letting Bond lead him back to the bedroom for more.


	31. Plug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond fucks Q bare, plugs him, sends him into the office before fucking and plugging him over and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by siriuslymad!

Q lies prone on the bed, limbs splayed, sweat-flushed and panting. Bond holds onto the slim hips as he eases out, the come warm between their bodies. He rubs his still hard cock along the rounded curve of Q’s arse, smearing the white fluid along the reddened skin.

"You look so pretty, all marked up from me," Bond breathes, his grip on Q’s hips still firm. He bends down and drags a fingertip through the mess, pushing it inside Q’s loosened hole.

Q squirms, lets his mouth fall open, his nose scrunching up into an adorable look of consternation. Bond revels in the little flickers that cross Q’s face, temporarily turning his normal guardedness into blissed out, unrestrained pleasure-pain.

"We’re going to be late," Q mutters into the mattress without any hint of bite to his voice.

Bond presses downward with his fingers and Q tenses beneath him, every muscle rigid.

"Patience, love," Bond murmurs, twisting his fingers while shifting to pull open the drawer of the bedside table. "I need you to be dripping and ready for it."

Q clenches around Bonds fingers, the knowledge of what ‘it’ is causing his spent cock to twitch slightly. Bond withdraws his fingers, wiping the wetness into Q’s thigh before pushing something heavy right against Q.

"Such a pretty little mess, Q. Do you want it all plugged up inside of you all day? Do you want to squirm in your seat, full of my come?"

Q nods fervently against the sheets and pushes his arse upward, into Bond’s fingers. Bond presses down smoothly on Q’s hips, working in the tip of the plug. He watches Q’s skin stretch around it, still so tight even after being loosened up by a thorough fucking.

Q breathes out audibly and as his body goes limp on the exhale, Bond gives the plug a firm push and it slides in with little resistance.

"There," Bond says with a smile, tugging Q up to sitting and pulling his naked body onto his lap. Q shifts, draws his arms around Bond’s neck, presses into him like he needs the anchor. "Leave it in all day for me?"

"Yes," Q whispers into Bond’s neck. Bond runs his hands down Q’s back, skating along his spine and down along the curve of his arse. He pushes against the base of the plug just to make Q clutch him closer and groan quietly.

"Good boy."


	32. Omegaverse Heat Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q is in heat and Bond isn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday fic for the lovely allmyinvisiblemonsters!
> 
> Warnings: Omegaverse, fisting, dirty talk, knotting.

Q first feels the waves of it when he’s washing his hair in the shower.  Little tendrils of heat flare across his skin and through his belly, and suddenly he’s achingly hard without a thought.  The splash of water on his skin is too much stimulation and he’s tripping over the shower door and bee-lining for the bed.  He tumbles onto the sheets, the cool cotton crisp against his naked body.  It feels good to rub against the material until suddenly it’s not enough.  His hand’s not enough, the obscenely large toy he’s fished out from the back of the nightstand is not enough.  

Bond, Q’s brain whines.  Why the fuck is he on a mission when he’d known that Q was close to his heat?

Sweaty fingers fumble with his mobile, and it takes two tries to swipe across the screen.  Q jabs at the interface, poking at the picture of Bond vehemently.  His irritation rises as he stares at the portrait while it rings endlessly, his body writhing in slow undulations on the bed.

Finally, _finally_ , he picks up.

“Hello, Q,” Bond says in a deep, sleep-soaked voice.  It goes straight to Q’s cock and he feels himself leaking out further, the precome sliding over the deep red head and wetting his stomach.  He circles a hand around the base and tugs hard, drawing a hurt groan from the back of his throat.

“Bond,” is all Q can bring himself to say.  He cradles the phone with his shoulder, his breath moistening the screen.

“Oh, fuck,” Bond breathes, sounding instantly more awake.  “Already?   I thought…”  He trails off and Q snorts derisively.  Bond, thinking.

“Need you now.  Tell me.  Tell me what to do.”  Q waits with bated breath, though it’s physically painful to do so.  The need to obey is more powerful than the need to get off, at least for the time being.

“Alright,” Bond says, and Q can hear him shifting over the line.  Q whines, high in his throat, impatient.

“Please.  James.”

“Take your fingers.  Circle slowly.  Feel how wet you are.”

Q does it, follows the orders exactly.  He’s dripping wet everywhere, his thighs spread and flushed, fringe matting down as his hair dries.

“Push them in, Q, slow.  Ride them.  Think of my cock, filling you up.  Fucking you.”

The fingers are too thin, not at all like Bond’s cock, but four of them do the trick.  Q’s hips stutter and jerk.

“I can’t, Bond.  I need… I need…”  Q screws his eyes up tight, picturing Bond above him, holding him down, fucking him deep and hard and greedy.  “Need your cock.  Need your knot.”

Bond’s breath is ragged over the line, and Q knows he’s fisting his own dick with hard, swift jerks.  The thought of Bond’s twitching abs makes Q jerk against his fingertips a little harder.

“Can you put it all in, love?  Your whole hand?”

Q nods fervently even though Bond can’t see him.  He tucks his thumb in and pushes, and he’s so wet, so incredibly fucking wet that it just slides in.  The stretch is unbelievable, but the angle doesn’t let it go much further than the knuckle, much to his dismay.

“No,” Q whispers with a tone like a petulant child.  He pumps his hips on his fingers and grasps his cock tighter.  “Need you.”

“I’m coming home.  Right now.  I’ll be there.”  Bond’s voice is smooth and rich now, and the tones placate Q.  “Fuck yourself on your hand.  You’re doing so good, love.”

Q is making little hurt noises as he flexes his wrist and tightens his muscles, feeling the lovely clench and flutter.  “James,” Q moans, and Bond knows he’s asking for permission.

“Come for me, love.  Come all over yourself.”

Q feels it spike upward, the deep heat in his belly that fans out along his skin.  His skin is hot all over and he closes his eyes tight and pictures Bond taking him, holding him, kissing him, knotting him.  His come spurts onto his stomach hotly and he slows his fingers, riding out the seismic spasms until he’s spent and sweaty and his limbs are a floppy mess.

“Fuck,” Bond says, and Q can hear the man’s breathing deepening.  “I’m coming home right the fuck now.”

“Okay,” Q says, boneless and spread out on the ruined sheets.  He feels his arse clench at the thought, his body spiraling through the aftermath and ramping back up into arousal before he can even catch his breath.  “Hurry.  Please.”

The desperation in his voice makes Bond hang up and immediately book the next flight out, mission be damned.


	33. kitten play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q pretends to be Bond's kitten. Plugs with tails, dirty talk, orgasm denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for alexandre00q on [tumblr](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com)!

“Come here, kitten,” James says, crooking a finger. He’s sprawled on the overstuffed armchair, shirt open at the collar, tie pulled loose, knees spread. Q glances up at the nickname and begins the process of unfolding himself from where he’s curled on the couch. He sets down his tablet and places it carefully on the coffee table before rising to his full height. It’s only a few steps and then he’s in front of James, wordless and obedient, head slightly bowed.

It’s dark in the room, the light from the streetlamps spilling in through the open windows and the deep shadows playing across James’ serious face. He arches an eyebrow at Q, and the subtle movement makes Q instantly sink to his knees.

“You’re such a good pet,” James murmurs, reaching out to stroke Q along the chin. Q swells with the praise, tipping his head slightly into the touch. He feels himself slip into that place where there’s only James’ soft, commanding voice, only the roughness of fingertips possessing him, just the press of his knees as he sinks into the carpet. James’ hand slides lower, dragging along Q’s slender neck and dipping down into the collar of his crisp dress shirt. The fingers grasp along the soft leather of a hidden collar, and the slight pull makes Q exhale quietly as excitement starts to revv up beneath his skin.

James begins to slowly undo each button, letting his fingers glide along the soft, exposed skin that is revealed. It’s an unhurried process and he takes his time, letting his eyes run along Q’s body like it’s the first time. His focused gaze makes Q self-conscious and he shifts on his knees and flushes slightly under the attention.

“I thought about you all day, little kitten,” James whispers, bending forward so his words fall right into Q’s ear. Q lets the sensations roll over his skin and down along his spine, pooling in his gut and causing his blood to begin to rush downward. He feels warm and heavy like he’s in the ocean, just under the surface. It’s a downward pressure that laps at his fingers and toes and cock all the same. James’ tongue is wet in his ear, the breath blowing along Q’s skin and cooling him with a shudder. “I thought about your pink tongue and your wet mouth. I thought about coming home and putting you on your knees, just like this. And then I couldn’t decide what to do after that.”

Q reaches forward with his hands to place them on James’ knees. He bends his neck, tipping down until his nose is against the cotton of James’ trousers and he’s rubbing along the seam. He lets his eyes drift closed, his glasses chafing against the side of his face as he noses along James’ thigh. James tugs Q’s shirt out from his waistband and draws it backwards. With Q pitched forward, the sleeves catch on his wrists, effectively pinning his arms behind his back. The balance is difficult and Q slides further between James’ legs, unable to resist a quick dart of his tongue along the seam of James’ trousers.

“I couldn’t decide if I should tie you up on our bed and open you up with just my tongue, stretching you out until you can take the large plug. The one with the fluffy kitten tail. But, the problem with that is-” and here James pauses to lace his hand into Q’s curly hair and tug him forward until he’s tight against James’ erection and groaning softly. ”-that I also want to have you ride me good and hard and make you work for it.”

Q is aching and wet in his pants, nuzzling against James’ cock through the trousers and making little mewling sounds in the back of his throat. He struggles in the makeshift bonds of his shirt, wanting to get his hands on James, wanting to slide down the flies and take James in his mouth. The frustration of being unable to do anything except what James wants, what James allows, is incredibly difficult, and Q closes his eyes until the urge passes and he is passive and pliant in James’ fingertips once again.

“Oh, Q, love. I want to fill you up with my cock, my come. I want you there, pleading and needy and red in the face. I want you begging me to touch your cock and let you come, and I want to see your eyes get wet with tears when I don’t let you. And I want it every single day, so you’re good and stretched and just gagging for it.”

The underwater feeling intensifies and Q turns his head to lay against James’ thigh, letting the man pet over his cheek and neck and slide two fingers inside his mouth. Q sucks around them hastily, his cock stirring in sympathy.

“Come on, love. Up and over.” The fingers slide out of Q’s mouth and leave a wet trail of saliva on the pinked lips. Q struggles back on his knees and stands slowly. He doesn’t meet James’ gaze as he turns sideways, laying himself over the man’s thighs in an awkward tumble. James catches him easily and strokes along Q’s bound arms and down over his rump. The hand slides around the curve of Q’s waist and searches beneath, undoing the buckle of his belt while being careful not to touch Q’s thickening cock. He slides the trousers and pants down over Q’s arse, and the air is cool and startling on Q’s fevered skin.

James’ fingertips return to Q’s mouth, dipping inward quickly before moving down to circle lightly along Q’s rim. “Won’t you purr for me, little kitten?” James says quietly as he lets one finger and then two slip inside. He twists his wrist to pull sideways in a slow stretch, causing Q to shudder resolutely and moan out. A quick flick of the wrist and James is stretching Q in the opposite direction, the sensation feeling like he’s being pulled in two. The fingers slide in further, the knuckles thick and knobby as they push deep, a third finger stretching him wide.

“The plug or my cock, kitten?” James asks, his voice rough and grainy.

Q can’t answer and crinkles his brow, frustrated. He shoves his arse back along the fingers, the fullness inside causing him to both arch his back and press his forehead into the armrest. When the fingers are removed and the feel of something smooth and rounded presses against him, Q spreads his legs further, knowing James’ choice.

The plug slides in easily, as loose as Q is. Slickness eases the push and Q feels his body opening up in that odd, deliciously pleasant way. It keeps going and going, the taper flaring out, and Q clenches his eyes tight as his body stretches wide around it. Then the thickest part is in and Q feels himself tighten around the neck of the toy, holding it snug inside. James pushes in on the base to rock it in just a little bit further and the motion makes Q gasp. He clutches onto the armrest and turns his head to catch James’ satisfied smile.

The man’s fingertips run along the edge of Q’s rim and then stroke downward along the soft hairs of the kitten’s tail. Q feels his cock swelling uncomfortably, trapped in the bunched fabric of his pants and pressed tightly against James’ strong thigh. The scent of his precome is thick, his body quivering, each little movement jostling the plug.

“No coming, kitten. Not yet. Later, when you’re riding my cock.”

James’ hands are gentle as he slides Q off of his legs and down to a kneeling position on the floor. Q’s arms are still bound by the shirt and his hair is a sweaty mess, tousled and pressed flat to his forehead. 

“First, you’ll lick me because I know you’re a thirsty little kitten. And then. Then if you’re good…” James slides his trousers and pants down and takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few quick strokes before letting it slap wetly against his belly. “Then I’ll fuck you, kitten.”

Q licks his lips, and bends forward. James is salty-sweet against his tongue, the taste rich as milk. He laps sloppily from base to tip, pausing only when James grabs his jaw and slides inside. He holds Q still and thrusts, and Q’s jaw burns with the dull ache.

“So good for me, my little cat.” 

Q purrs in response, the hairs of the tail soft and teasing against his thighs, his body on fire.


	34. Q watches Teen Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q watches Teen Wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tomhardyschef. <3

“Do you want to eat out there or in the kitchen?” James calls out as he fiddles around with the cupboards, pulling out plates and soy sauce and stacking everything into a small pile.

“Shhhh, it’s starting,” Q yells back from the living room.

James rolls his eyes and gathers up the plates with both hands, balancing them along his forearms like a waiter as he walks into the living room.  He pauses, taking in Q curled up on the couch with his mug, his feet tucked into the cushions of the couch.  He’s staring at a flash of explosions across the screen followed by an odd-looking man with abnormally hairy sideburns and long, sharp fangs.  

“This crap again?”

Q shoots him a hurt look and sips from his mug, frowning as it scalds his tongue.  “It’s not crap.  It’s a serious show.”

“About werewolves.  In school.  American werewolves.”

“Well this one likes to take his shirt off a lot.  He looks quite nice with a beard.”  Q turns to cock his head at James, his eyes narrowing like he does when he’s trying to puzzle out a tricky bit of coding.  “Hmmm…”

“What,” James says tonelessly, though he has a pretty good idea what Q is thinking.

“Nothing.”  He turns back to the show, sliding over slightly when James tries to squish next to him on the couch.  Q settles back against the solid body and lets James pet through his hair, purring slightly at the touch.  They watch in silence, Q reaching for the eggrolls and smiling when James snatches it from his hand and tries to feed it to him.  It’s a bit too big for one bite and they have to scoop up the small leaves of cabbage and carrot that are spilling down Q’s shirt.

James pauses mid-brush to kiss Q sweetly and is slightly annoyed when Q pushes away and returns his attention back to the television.

“Remember when we first met?  And you had all that scruff,” Q says, eyes still glued to the screen.

“I remember.”

They watch in silence for a while until Q pauses the show quite deliberately.  He turns to look at James, smiling at the slight annoyance that the man is trying to hide with a smirk.  “It looked good.  The scruff, that is.”  

Q draws up his body, pushing the blanket to the side and climbing over into James’ lap until he’s straddling him and pressing forward with his whole body.  He’s obviously hard in his trousers, rutting his hips against the older man and leaning forward to pepper kisses along the thick line of James’ neck and down to the stiff crease of his collar.

“Not sure if I like this,” James says gruffly, though he’s obviously responding to Q’s wriggling body being pushed enthusiastically against him.

“What,” Q pouts, tipping his hips forward so James lets out a soft grunt.  “You don’t like me in your lap?  I thought that was one of your favourites.”

James’ hands tighten on Q’s hips, stilling his jerky movements.  “I don’t like being your little sex toy.”

Q grows still and looks down at James, smiling genuinely and smoothing back the creases that are furrowing up the blond eyebrows.  “You are a silly man.”

James shifts his legs and Q grips tightly to the man’s shoulders, not allowing himself to be jostled off.  Q pushes forward again, his laughter just irritating James more.  He leans closer, resting until they are chest to chest and his head is laying on the broad shoulder, glasses pressed awkwardly against his temple.  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of a fictional character.”

James’ huff is enough of an answer and Q wriggles his hand between their bodies, searching until he grasps James’ cock through his trousers and gives a tight squeeze.  He breathes warmly against the shell of James’ ear, nipping gently before whispering, “I love you, James.”  He unbuckles the heavy metal buckle slowly, drawing the leather through the loop and sliding it off with care.  “And I want you to fuck me hard right now.  And tomorrow night.  And the next night too.”

James hums softly, letting his head fall back against the couch as Q works his hand into his trousers.  “That can be arranged.”

Q grins and tugs, relishing every moan that falls from James’ lips.  He strokes him til he’s sweaty and panting and coming hard, right in his pants, Q’s name soft on his lips.

 

The next day James doesn’t shave, much to Q’s delight.   


	35. chibi!Q

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q changes into a chibi version of himself when he gets embarrassed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For touphy.

James’ frantic voice sounds high above him, loud and distant at the same time.

“Q? What happened? Q?”

There’s rustling and then the darkness around him melds into harsh light and Q is blinking up at James with abnormally large, mint-green eyes. He’s tiny and round, standing in a pile of his now humongous cardigan and trousers.

“I, uh…”

James steps back, taking a moment to gape before a huge smile slides across his face.

“You are so  _cute_.”

“Oh, shut up you arsehole,” Q chirps, looking around to see that his miniature form is now completely naked. He bends down to grab at the wool cardigan, wrapping it around his waist as he blushes furiously.

“And your voice. It’s so high!”

Q sits down quickly, crossing his legs and struggling to pull the heavy fabric completely over his body. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing.”

James bends down so he’s crouching, peering at Q who is trying to hide his round head beneath a button. His eyes widen in fascination and he reaches out to gently tug the cardigan down so he can see Q’s red face. Q’s glasses have shrunk to a mini-size but nothing else, and James starts a chuckle that morphs to a hysterical howl that Q does not appreciate at  _all_. “How is this even possible?” James asks between gasps for air, wiping his hand at his eyes to brush away the tears that are forming.

Q crosses his arms but the cardigan falls down with the movement. He immediately uncrosses them to grab at it and yank it up over his lap. “It’s been known to happen when I am under extreme duress. Or.” He looks down and fiddles with the navy ribbing on the shirt. “Or when I am embarrassed.”

This news makes James smirk like a villain, and he reaches forward to prod Q in the tiny belly button. Q frowns and pushes at James’ large finger, which just makes James burst into a fit of giggles again.

“If you are quite done poking at me, I believe I need some clothes.” He tries to put some indignation in his tone, but he knows the high squeaking isn’t helping matters.

His words make James waggle his blond eyebrows. “Well, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned my first time seeing you naked, but your round tummy helps make up for a lot.”

Q blushes even further, his entire face pinking. It spreads down his tiny neck and beneath the wool he’s pulled tightly around his chest. “Look, you need to stop saying things like that so I can go back to normal.”

“Really? Am I embarrassing you, Q?” James asks, and Q kicks himself mentally. James will be a total arse now, and he’ll be stuck in mini-form forever. He’ll have to make R go out and buy a Ken doll so he can have some pants that fit him. He slaps his palm to his forehead and grimaces as James giggles once more.

“Okay, new plan. Take me to my office and then just leave.”

“Not a chance,” James whispers, though he does pick up Q with a gentle scoop. Q grasps the cardigan tightly around him as he’s pulled up and against James’ chest. “I think you’d fit right in my pocket.”

Q squeaks, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god, I’m going to die.”


	36. sex pollen gangbang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex pollen makes everyone gangbang Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: group sex, dubcon, sex pollen. 
> 
> Q/Bond/Alec/Mallory/Female!R/other male agent
> 
> For ayrtonwilbury.

A tumult of banging and shouting makes Q look up from his computer screen in alarm. His office is small, just off of Q-branch, and the underground bunker system means it’s little more than a windowless box. He glances at his phone quickly to see if there are any imminent alerts before cautiously creeping out of his seat to peak around the door. 

There was a time in his life when he would have dashed around the corner and straight into trouble, but a bit of experience at MI6 and some officially mandated practical combat training had honed his responses to something more well-thought out.

He creaks the door open partially, peering out into the expanse of Q-branch. At first glance there is nothing amiss, except for the excessive number of agents in the room. Mallory had come down personally for a debrief and had been going over new specs with R and several of the senior agents. They currently are standing in a loose circle, the backs of several of them blocking whatever it is they are all looking at.

“What’s going on?” Q calls tentatively from the edge of his door frame, reaching to adjust his glasses and blink owlishly. Several heads turn to snap in his direction, Alec and Bond included. They are far enough away that Q can’t quite make out their expression, but their stiff body posture and the sudden silence in the room do not bode well.

“Q,” Bond says and there’s a faint tremor in his voice that makes Q instantly nervous. The blond normally has nerves of steel and whatever is going on is bad – very bad. “Stay in your office. Lock the door.”

Q’s stomach sinks and he hovers behind the bulk of the door, warring between helping his lover and some type of latent survival instinct he usually ignores.

“Bond?” Q asks, his fingers gripping into the wood as his body stubbornly refuses to obey his directions to head to safety.

“It’s the new tech those dimwits in research and development fucked up on. Go back into your office now. Lock the door. We’ll be fine.” Q hesitates, glancing between Bond’s strained face and the pinched look that Alec is currently giving the floor. R has her arms crossed over her chest and is resolutely facing the other way while Mallory suddenly straightens and seems to gather his wits about him.

“He’s right, Quartermaster. That’s an order.” Mallory lets the weight of his position stand behind his words, but his hands are shaking minutely as he grips the rolling chair so hard his knuckles whiten.

“If it’s a malfunction, I can help,” Q says earnestly, his stomach dropping lower and lower the more time passes. He’s not an idiot, but sacrificing for the greater good is in their job description, after all.

“Q, if you don’t listen to what Bond says, and you don’t do it right the fuck now, things are going to get unpleasant,” Alec says. He seems to be doing the best out of all of them, his green eyes sharp and piercing. He smoothes down his suit and sits, the silence growing uncomfortable.

“No,” Q states firmly, and Bond makes an exasperated noise. He starts forward towards Q’s office and then stops abruptly mid-stride.

“Q, please,” Bond says in a strained voice, and then he’s walking forward quickly again until he’s reached the thick wooden door of Q’s office. Up close, Q can see the lines on the man’s face, the way the blood has drained so his cheeks are white, how his knuckles are clenched tightly with effort.

“What’s going on, James?” Q whispers, and the use of the familiar name has Bond closing his eyes and biting his lip. His hands dart forward, quick as a fox, and grasps Q by the shoulders, throwing him against the door frame. Bond pushes his body tightly against Q’s, thick muscle straining forward to pin the younger man so he can’t move an inch.

“It’s a drug. The wrong dosage or some nonsense R was spouting, but it’s not good.” Bond pushes his thigh against Q and slides it between Q’s legs. Q yelps softly as he feels Bond blazingly hard against his hip and the hands tighten on his biceps. “I’m sorry, Q. You need to go now.”

Q feels panic beginning to build where just nerves were before. “I want to help you, James,” he whispers.

“Not a good idea,” Bond says back and he nuzzles into Q’s neck like he can’t control himself. His hands slide down to Q’s slim wrists, gripping tight enough to make Q whimper.

“But what will happen…” Q says, trailing off as Bond begins to lick into the curve of Q’s long ear. He bites down on the shell before sucking it inward between his teeth. His mouth is warm, his body familiar and solid against Q, and Q feels his body reciprocating. “It’s okay.”

Bond drags himself away to frown down at Q, their bodies still pressed together at the hips. His eyes are ice-blue, pupils blown wide. “But it’s not just me, love,” Bond says softly, and he frowns more fully now as Q looks over his shoulder. The group has moved closer, obviously attempting to hang back and look nonchalant, but unable to mask their interest in the proceedings.

Alec is close to Bond’s left shoulder, his lips red from biting down so hard, Mallory behind him and turned slightly to the side with arms crossed. R has pressed herself tight against Bond’s back, her red lipstick staining against the bright white collar as she bends her head to press light kisses at the man’s nape.

Q feels his eyes widen and he stiffens in Bond’s grip. Oh. Oh. His fight or flight instinct ramps up astronomically, and while his heart hammers in his chest he feels frozen, like a deer in headlights. About to get flattened.

“Come on, Q,” Bond says quietly, and though Q knows it’s a plea to tell him to get moving and fight it, he only hears the honey-sweet tones of his lover. How many times has James whispered in his ear to come on, come for him, spread for him, moan for him? Confusion stirs across his body as he reacts viscerally to the stimuli. Bond feels so good against him, and watching the others pressing in, looking at him like he’s meat… It makes him weak in the knees.

“Last chance before I pounce,” Bond whispers into Q’s neck, and Q tenses against him, feeling his cock hardening in his pants. Bond has already pounced—it’s just words, but Q knows they will be important later when all is said and done.

“No, I…” Q stammers, knocking his head back against the door and closing his eyes. “Please.” The word surprises himself and he pops his eyes open, the reality before him suddenly blazingly vibrant. The permission makes Bond growl against him and bite down, apparently giving the man the latitude for his aggressive side to come out.

“Are you sure?” Bond says, and the others look like they are waiting with bated breath.

Q glances from each face, seeing the strain there, the barely contained lust, the self-control etched across all of their faces with difficulty. He feels himself instantly hard and Bond grinds into him, making him ride against his thigh. Q nods fervently as he makes his decision. They’d done the club thing before, and Q had even had a three-way once in uni. But nothing like this. But he trusted Bond, he trusted Alec. And really, there wasn’t any way that a wooden door was going to stop three agents, R’s technical knowledge, and Mallory’s authority.

And yes, maybe it was a little wrong. But Q’s body doesn’t seem to care. Bond takes his word at face value and undoes the clasp of Q’s trousers, shoving them down quickly around his knees. Q doesn’t have any time to be embarrassed, just throws back his head and moans as Bond palms his cock through his pants roughly. He turns Q sideways and Q feels the bulk of another body slide up behind him. Alec.

“Easy there,” Alec murmurs against Q’s neck, stroking along him like he’s a stallion that needs to be calmed. Q tosses his head and leans back, feeling the light rub of five o’clock shadow against his cheek. And yes, maybe he’s always had a thing for Alec, too. Maybe he’s thought of being sandwiched between the two big bodies, one cock inside of him, another in his mouth. He feels the last vestiges of fear and awkwardness fade away as he falls into their hands.

Alec guides him away from the door and hooks his fingers in the waistband of his pants, pushing them down and stepping out of them quickly. Q is naked from the waist down, cock hanging down heavily, the tip shiny with pre-come that he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about.

“You are so gorgeous, my love,” Bond purrs, and he pulls Q’s hands above his head to wrestle him out of his cardigan and undershirt. It gets caught in a tangle briefly and Alec uses the temporary immobility to rain kisses against Q’s shoulder blades before reaching down to grab his arse in two hands and pull him apart.

Q moans and spreads his legs, suddenly desperate to be filled up.

“Let’s show everyone how gorgeous you are.” Bond tugs Q by the wrists, still tangled in his cardigan and his body follows, supplicating and pliant. He lets himself be drawn over a narrow console table, the width just enough to drape his torso over.

Several pairs of hands are on him suddenly, pulling him into position, holding him down. One grabs the makeshift bonds of his wrist and tugs down so he’s pressed so firmly into the table that he can hardly wriggle. Another pair rests on his neck, stroking there before grasping tightly, and yet another rests on the cheeks of his arse. The fingers are rough, pulling at him, yanking him open and he burns at being on display but feels his cock swelling and leaking despite it. Because of it.

A wet, pointed tongue slides against him and Q cries out, stiffening in his bonds. It probes against him, wriggling inside as another set of hands strokes along his cock. He wonders how long he’s going to last as his body trips into overstimulation mode almost immediately. The hands are everywhere, his skin on fire. And Bond, Bond’s voice in his ear. Soothing him.

“Shh, you’re doing so well,” Bond murmurs, and Q knows now that his hands aren’t any of the ones currently stroking him. The thought excites him even more. “My gorgeous little thing.”

Q hears whispering and footsteps and then someone is back behind him, prying him open, a finger wet and slippery right in between. Bond must have told them about the lube he keeps hidden in Q’s bottom desk drawer. The fingers push against him and slide in with no pretense. Q hears a muted, strangled sound that he only later realizes comes from his own throat, and all of the hands tighten on him at once. His wrists are pulled down with more force and he feels his body stretched, elongated, drawn taut.

The fingers work in him, a third added quickly, stretching him out, getting him ready. He closes his eyes and then lets them fly open when a warm cock slides against his cheek, smearing wetness. He strains his head up, looking over the top of his glasses to see 009 close by. He’s only undone the zip on his trousers, his dress shirt hiked up, cock hanging out luridly. He grunts and pushes forward, shoving right between Q’s lips and Q moans around the thickness. He wriggles his tongue and just lays still, the cock thrusting quickly down his throat and making him unable to do anything but swallow.

Behind him, the fingers twist and press before being withdrawn quickly. They are replaced by the head of a cock and Q feels that overwhelming feeling of too much, of overstimulation, of sweaty, tense fear. But the cock pushes forward mercilessly, spearing him, and he’s being fucked at both ends with nothing he can do about it but take it. Pleasure-pain washes over him as his eyes prick with tears, his mind shorting out and all thoughts becoming now and take and submit.

He thinks it’s Alec behind him, but he’s not really sure. All he can see is the base of the cock that’s fucking into his mouth, the threads of 009’s trousers, the others in his peripheral vision.

“Arse up, Q,” Alec says, and Q feels the man pulling up on his hips to get a better angle as he continues to fuck with hard strokes. Feminine hands pull at his cock, and Q strains between the multitude of sensations, feeling his orgasm drawing closer as his toes curl.

Come splashes on his back from an unknown source, and Q moans around the cock in his mouth as the sticky-warm liquid slides over his skin. 009 moans heavily, his hands grabbing onto Q’s jaw and holding him still so he can fuck hard, obviously growing closer to the edge of coming. Q works his tongue on the underside of the thick cock before sucking hard and stilling as completely as possible so the man can stutter his hips and empty into him. It’s hot on his tongue, salty and strong, and he has no choice but to swallow it all down.

“Good boy,” Bond says from somewhere above him, and the words and his strokes along Q’s sweaty hair makes him beam with the praise.

Alec picks up his thrusting, really bucking his hips now and grunting out. His fingertips are so tight that he’s leaving bright red marks along Q’s skinny hips, each thrust wet and loud as they slap together. R clamps down around the base of Q’s cock and Q groans out with a guttural moan as he feels the pressure increasing monumentally.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” Alec gasps out before clamping down and fucking like there’s no tomorrow. Q feels the agent’s hot come spilling inside of him, the way suddenly eased with the slick fluid. The jackhammering thrusts pound against his prostate and Q starts to cry, the feelings becoming overwhelming. But still he can’t come— isn’t allowed to come.

He’s flipped over onto his back, his body bent awkwardly. R releases him momentarily and Q feels like he’s going to rocket right into his orgasm, but the twist of his body is awkward and then she’s grabbing down along his cock again and tightening her fingers into a circle once more. The pleasure ebbs again before flowing straight back to a full-on wave as she bends down to take his cock in her mouth. Q watches the red lipstick close around him in awe, his cock disappearing between those stretched lips over and over again. His body feels strung out, like he’s a live wire and each little lick of her tongue makes his brain short-circuit.

“My turn now, love,” Bond says with authority, moving around to the other side of the table and bending Q’s legs back. Alec’s come seeps out of him obscenely, down onto his arse and thighs, making the table slick beneath him. They shuffle sideways so Q is more on the wider portion of it and his back is supported. Strong hands pull his bound wrists above his head, pinning him like a butterfly. He thinks it’s Mallory but he can’t even tell anymore, his body so overstimulated he can barely register anything but R’s mouth on his cock and the painful pleasure shooting through his groin.

Two other hands guide his legs back and Q tenses up as Bond probes at his hole, pushing the milky white come inside. He’s stretched and tender, gasping in their grip.

“Please, James. I’m not going to last. Please, I need to come. Please. Please.” His voice is beyond pleading, beyond broken, beyond anything even remotely resembling coherent.

Bond holds him open and slides in right to the hilt. There is absolutely no resistance and Q sobs out as Bond rocks into him. R releases her hold on his cock and he feels the sensations suddenly explode in Technicolor as his orgasm wrings from his body. He shudders and spanks his hips along the table, his body clenching on James’ cock hard. Q’s eyes screw shut with the pain, and he’s too-hot, the rash of heat flashing everywhere all at once.

He’s never come so hard in his life and he convulses on the table as Bond just continues to fuck him before stuttering his own hips and coming with a shout. Q lays like a limp dishrag on the table, unable to even move a fingertip as his lungs struggle to fill with air. His short gasping breaths eventually turn quieter and James eases out of him slowly, the fire seemingly ebbing in him as well.

“Jesus,” Q whispers as he looks around at the agents. R’s lipstick is smeared across her thin lips, her hair disheveled hands pushed into her pockets. Mallory looks almost sheepish, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his waistcoat so the pinstripes align once more. Alec is draped over 009, both of their lips looking red and kiss-swollen, their hair sweaty and matted down.

It seems like the frantic buzz has dropped from the room, and apparently mass orgasms are enough to take the potency out of whatever had affected them. Q struggles out of his cardigan completely, suddenly naked and self-conscious. He moves to right himself on the table and Bond helps him, soothing along his shoulders. His body groans with the movement, his joints creaking, muscles burning, and his arse still wet with Alec and Bond’s come. Q purses his lips, looking for something to say and coming up blank.

“I’ll erase the tapes,” he finally says, and Mallory nods curtly before turning to take his leave. The others follow without a word, Alec sharing some kind of silent communication with Bond before turning to brush a brief kiss on Q’s forehead. Then he’s sweeping out of the room, ushering 009 and R with him, presumably to give Q and Bond some privacy.

Q dresses in silence, feeling dirty as he slides his used and sweaty and sticky body into the soft wool and cotton.

“Are you alright, love?” Bond asks, and the look of concern on his face almost breaks Q’s heart. He pulls him close, tugging the agent between his legs and resting his head on the man’s broad shoulder.

“I kind of liked it,” Q whispered, before leaning forward to give Bond a deep kiss—the first of the evening. Q doesn’t think too hard about the fact that there’s the taste of another man’s come still lingering on his tongue.


End file.
